


A Well-Earned Rest

by Jrade



Series: Underwatch [2]
Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: (Unless somebody asks me to in which case I happily will!), Breakfast in Bed, Eventual sex (eventual meaning chapter 2), Explicit Sexual Content, F/F, Fluff, Fluff and Smut, Followup, Humor, Kissing, Lesbians everywhere!, Massage, Mile High Club, Multi, Not gonna bother tagging all the specific sexual acts, Smut, Some angst, Teasing, Threesome - F/F/F, Vacation
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-04-03
Updated: 2018-08-07
Packaged: 2019-04-17 15:53:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 21,028
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14192493
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jrade/pseuds/Jrade
Summary: Tracer, Widowmaker, and Emily have all been together for a while, and it has overall been wonderful but they've had - quite frankly - a bit of a hell of a time more recently. Up to and including Widowmaker untimely (albeit temporary) death. Now that she's been brought back by Mercy, though, and sorted out a few key issues with Reaper re: her relationships; now, she's ready for a break from all of that stress, to spend some well-deserved quality time with her girlfriends.Or: "How I Learned to Stop Worrying and Love My Girlfriends - and Life, Generally."





	1. Setting Sail

**Author's Note:**

> Hey there folks! Hope you're having a great day - this is the followup to my work "Both Sides Now" which is the first part of a series of three. So, if you haven't read that, you might want to scroll up and click on it, part one in the Underwatch series - but, it's uh, over four hundred thousand words long, so... you may not want to read it all, haha! I don't think it's strictly speaking necessary to enjoy this piece, either.
> 
> This here isn't part two, technically, it's more like part 1.5; just an interlude to give a chance to breathe and decompress whilst still fleshing out characterization and stuff! It won't do huge amounts to advance the main plotline put forth in BSN, but it _should_ do a fair bit to delve further into the characterizations and relationships started there. Plus, just give a chance for the three of them to be happy! :D
> 
> There'll be some fluff, some jokes, some teasing, some smut, some maybe very light angst but probably not even that really - some explanations and some talks, good conversations and a lot of comfort. It should be good.
> 
> So, I hope you like it! Thanks, folks!

Lena let out a held breath, long and slow and soft as she squeezed at the warm hand held in hers. The car’s gentle hum soaked into her through the seat, and she couldn't wipe the smile off of her face.

She had no idea what was planned. Widowmaker had said to meet at that airport, and they’d each packed for a week - Widdy hadn’t told them to plan for any activities in particular, nor had she said  _ where _ they would actually be staying.

“D’you suppose it’s gonna be a hotel or summat?” She glanced over to catch Emily’s eye for a second, her grin widening at the way Em had done her hair up - a fine braid going back around each side, over her ears to meet at the back.

Emily laughed, a light and delighted little laugh as she looked over. “I  _ kinda _ doubt it,” she shrugged, “given that she’s not exactly inconspicuous, is she?”

“What, you think people might recognize a hot blue French woman with golden eyes and hair down to ‘er bum?” Lena scritched at her hair, chuckling as Emily giggled. “Dunno about that, love -  _ might _ be reaching there.”

The car was actually entirely capable of driving itself, and took over as Emily released the steering wheel and leaned back. She preferred the feel of driving, but for conversations it was really nice to have that choice and not feel like she needed to split her attention between the road and whatever else was going on.

“Honestly,” she shrugged, turning in her seat to face Lena more directly, “I don’t even care if she expects us to spend a whole week in that tiny flat of hers, I’m just looking forward to seeing her again.”

Lena snorted abruptly, wide-eyed. “Okay, seconded, yeah, but if she  _ does _ try to get us staying there the  _ whole time, _ I’m booking us a hotel!”

The idea of spending the week with two women she loved still seemed a little absurd and incredible and unlikely - even just  _ being _ in love with both of them. Getting to spend time with them was even more fantastic still, in both the modern and the more old-fashioned sense.

At the same time, the idea of doing it in an apartment which barely even constituted a whole room - one that could be taken in in a glance, and didn’t even have a proper bed - wasn’t the  _ best _ thing she’d ever heard.

Although, she had to admit, it did still sound like a pretty wonderful proposition.

“Oh, don’t be so harsh, Lena love,” Emily admonished lightly with a twinkle in her eyes. “Maybe she’ll have bought sheets by now!”

They laughed in unison, the happy sounds layering themselves over the soft background music of the radio. It was a cloudy day out, grey and slightly dreary, but inside their car it might as well have been full and glorious sunlight for the amount of joy which steeped the air.

“You think she might be taking us somewhere further away?” Emily reached over and hit the control to recline her seat, turning sideways and leaning over against it with one arm behind her head. It made her blouse - some kind of gossamer and silky fabric that was only attached fully at her wrist and at the shoulder - fall open and reveal her arm. “Airport and all, y’know.”

Lena, the pilot, though, scoffed and shot that one down. “Yeah, airport that’s not been used for it in twenty bloody years - I mean, you could get a dropship in there, yeah, sure. Anything with vertical capacities - helicopter, too - but why bother? She could’ve picked us up in the Row with that.”

A bit of sun peeked out from the clouds, flickering across Lena’s face and lighting it up. Highlighting the faint and fairly sparse freckles on her cheeks, making her brown eyes glow, and all of it making Emily’s heart melt a little. A wide smile blossomed across her face, even as Lena quirked an eyebrow and started to grin back at her.

“Remember to  _ breathe _ there, love,” Lena teased, and Emily promptly burst into laughter.

Before long, Emily abandoned her seat entirely. As long as they were on auto-drive anyway, there was no point not taking advantage of it - she crawled over into Lena’s lap and sighed as she curled up, looking out toward the passing buildings and trees. Fingers stroked through her hair and caressed at her arms, her side, and she just soaked it all in.

Tracer took a deep breath, a lungful of Em’s scent leaving her just a little lightheaded and grinning - it was impossible not to, really, her lips just reacted that way. She squeezed Emily a little tighter, nuzzling her nose deeper down into coppery hair. “I love you so much, Em.”

With a soft laugh, Emily pushed herself a little more upright, twisting around to face back toward Lena and run a thumb down her jaw; she was absolutely gorgeous from this close. Or from miles away. Sighing happily, Emily leaned in the few inches which separated them and sought out Lena’s mouth for a soft, deep kiss and a murmured reply. “I love you too.”

 

\---

 

The airport still looked the same, and Tracer had a smile on her face just at the sight of it, at the memory of their last visit, the day spent racing motorcycles around the pavement. They parked up closer this time, without Widdy there ensuring her surprise would be kept - they’d pulled the car right through onto the airfield proper. Or at least, give or take: they’d parked next to one of the old buildings there.

The whole area was empty, but that didn’t mean much. Things could arrive - or could be hidden, and Widdy certainly seemed to like springing surprises.

“I guess we might even just be here doing the bikes again, eh?” Lena glanced over her shoulder to Emily as she tugged one of their trunks out of the boot of the car.

Taking the suitcase, Emily shrugged happily. “Could be! Honestly don’t think I mind much - sure it’ll be lovely regardless!”

There was a chuckle which came from neither of them, and Tracer’s head still instinctively whipped around. Even though it had happened a dozen times, she still had that little moment of panic - however, it very quickly dawned on her. “Sombra,” she groaned, “wouldja stop it with the-”

“Oh c’mon,” the hacker protested, still not showing up in person or on-screen.

It was difficult to tell from the sound of her voice whether she was even there in person - her words drifted out from inside of the car, so it would have been easy to think that she was talking through the speakers in there. 

At the same time, Tracer wondered with a smirk whether she’d maybe been sitting cloaked in the backseat the whole time.

“Are you gonna be coming with us, love?” Emily plucked a smaller bag out of the car and slung it over one shoulder. Lena looked over in momentary surprise - she hadn’t thought about whether Sombra would be going as well, but she  _ had _ technically been in the call when Widowmaker had talked about “them” all going on holiday.

A couple of weeks ago, or probably even a couple of _days_ ago, Lena was pretty sure she wouldn’t have been comfortable with it. She knew that Widdy was involved with Sombra, and Em was obviously _at_ _least_ pretty close friends with her too, but she hadn’t felt much connection herself.

She realized now that that wasn’t really the case anymore. Sometimes things changed slowly, gradually, evolving into new forms - sometimes they got there in a hurry, the snap of a fingers or the blow of a hammer, and if the events of the previous day hadn’t been a fire to reforge their relationship, Lena didn’t know what was.

As it turned out, though, she barely even had time to process it all - never mind having enough to  _ say _ any of it - before Sombra was laughing. “Ah, nah, forget that. My idea of a vacation’s a couple dozen bottles of tequila, a chocolate fountain, one of those hotels with a mirror on the ceiling and a bank nearby, and, y’know, maybe a couple other things.”

They both chuckled at that, and Emily grinned. “Mm, good to know for future though, eh?” She snickered at her own comment, and Lena couldn’t help but laugh at it as well.

“I’m just here as an escort,” Sombra continued, in a voice that sounded very much like it was twisted by a grin. “And not  _ that _ kinda escort before you get any ideas. Just to keep an eye on you while you were heading through town - I  _ almost _ got a nice show, too. Who sits in a cute  _ chica’s _ lap and  _ doesn’t _ try to feel her up, huh,  _ Roja?” _

“We were gonna be here in five minutes!” Emily protested as Lena laughed. “I didn’t want to need to cut things short!”

“Oh please, like it’s ever stopped you before,” Lena retorted through a wide grin which only redoubled as Emily blushed lightly, looking simultaneously slightly shocked at Lena and pleased with herself.

Sombra’s snicker came from the car’s still-open boot. “Damn, learning all  _ kinds _ of fun things today.  _ Roja: _ kinkier than you’d think, and cute when she blushes.”

“You can mark those both down for double!” With a laugh, Lena set down her suitcase and stepped closer, pressing a kiss to a now thoroughly red, freckled cheek. Emily rolled her eyes and groaned a sigh, but she leaned into the kiss and then whipped her head over swiftly to catch Lena’s mouth with her own, evidently trying to prove her new reputation to be correct.

Lena forgot everything for a moment, her arms instinctively curling around Emily’s back and up to her shoulder, head tilting back and off to the side to give her girlfriend the angle and the access she wanted - that they  _ both _ wanted, and Lena’s knees shivered as Emily moaned into the kiss, tugging gently at her hair.

Then Sombra snickered again and Tracer suddenly remembered that they were being observed, and she gasped and withdrew as blood flushed up her neck and into her cheeks.

Emily giggled deep in her chest, grinning wide as she stroked at one of Lena’s cheeks. “I’m not the only one, either, am I, love?”

“S-so you’re um,” Lena coughed to clear her throat, even as the other two broke into brief laughter. “So you’re not coming with, eh, Sombra? That uh… well, y’know… have fun with whatever you’re up to, y’know?”

The hacker had done a lot to ensure all of their safety, to ensure Widowmaker’s particularly, and without her, today wouldn’t be happening. In so many ways.

It felt a little bit wrong for her to be shut out of the celebrations. 

“Geeze, sounds like you want me to come along, eh  _ chica?” _ Sombra chuckled, moreso when Tracer’s blush deepened a little. “Ha! I knew it - look at those cheeks, oh you  _ so _ do!”

“N- shut up, no I don’t,” she stammered in response as Emily, ever content to see her squirm a little bit, leaned back against the car with a giggle and a grin. “I- I only meant, y’know, that you  did a lot to help out with this all. And stuff.” Tracer cleared her throat, tugging her jacket a little straighter and trying to will the blood away from her cheeks. “You should get some rest and celebrations of your own, that’s all.”

Although, she had to admit, Sombra  _ did _ have a nice laugh. She rolled her eyes at herself at the thought, though.  _ Gonna have to stop finding gals with nice laughs who like teasing me. Well…  _ she smirked,  _ or maybe I don’t. _

“ _ Sure, amiga _ ,” Sombra purred, “that’s  _ all _ it is, totally, yeah - hey, don’t get me wrong, I don’t blame you. Everybody wants to get with Sombra!” She snickered again as Tracer groaned, Emily doubled over in silent laughter beside her. “And hey, maybe I’ll invite you along to that mirror hotel, eh? Always room in the chocolate fountain for one more!”

Lena opened her mouth to retort, then blinked in confusion and tipped her head to the side. “Wait, a  _ person- _ sized chocolate fountain? Aren’t they normally smaller than that?”

“Oh, love,” Emily gasped, giggling at the whole exchange almost uncontrollably, “you can’t just comment on the size of someone’s chocolate fountain! It’s poor- poor form!” She barely managed to get out the words before she was overwhelmed by laughter again, joined by Sombra, and leaving Lena to just groan and tip her head back to stare at the sky.

She rubbed at her cheeks, sore from smiling and laughing, hot from her blush, and she already knew that this vacation was a good idea. She’d been a little nervous about it, but everyone around the base at Apeldoorn had promptly informed her that she deserved and even needed a break.

Ana had even threatened to just tranquilize her for a few days if she didn’t get off and have some fun and relax.

She  _ definitely _ planned on doing all of those over the next week, though. All three of them.

A noise caught her attention and her eyes flew open, instantly searching the skies - it sounded like an airplane, far up above, and she tried to spot the source of the sounds but it was too cloudy out. She focused on it more than Sombra and Emily’s continued teasing behind her, tipping her head off to the side and trying to pinpoint the plane’s location from sound alone.

It was an old habit, and one that most pilots and ex-pilots had: when they heard an aircraft they immediately started trying to position it, to identify it. For Tracer, it went back to her youth, when she’d tried to pick them out of the sky just because she thought they were brilliant.

This one was coming closer.

She didn’t recognize it from the sound alone, but it was clearly something high-performance; high-speed jets whirring brightly, but not at full throttle. No, it sounded very much like a fast jet coming in for landing, that’s what it sounded like.

By this point, Emily heard it as well and stepped forward with a grin and the trailing ends of her laughter still making her shoulders shake. “Any idea what it is?” She wiped at her cheeks as she asked the question -  _ she _ didn’t know much about planes, but she knew that Lena liked talking about them and it was good to show an interest.

“Not… really,” Lena shook her head, frowning slightly, her face tightening up the way it always did when she focused. She stretched out an arm, gesturing off to one end of the runway. “It- it  _ sounds _ like it’s coming for landing from over there, but that’d be ridiculous.”

Her eyes dropped to the runway itself, huge cracks painted over with tar and some chunks of it upheaved. It was plenty fine for motorcycles - brilliant for them, in fact - but for a high speed jet it would be far too rough. The plane would be lucky to survive the landing unless whoever was behind the stick was absurdly talented.

And lucky.

The sound approached and Tracer actually started to panic a little, looking around to see if she could somehow signal the pilot to stop trying to land - but the cloud cover wasn’t too low. They would have plenty of time to react. As long as they weren’t having a problem, they wouldn’t need to land here, they could find somewhere else.

...except  _ of course _ they were having a problem, they were coming in to land at an old derelict airport - nobody would do that if everything was going well, if they could fly off somewhere else instead. They must have been running out of fuel, or having a hydraulics failure or maybe even a fire.

Needless to say, Tracer was tense as the aircraft approached.

Then, out through one of the clouds, came one of the most gorgeous airplanes that Tracer had ever seen. Sleek and streamlined, twin jets at the far rear end - the wings were more than halfway back the fuselage, and it had a high T-tail which just underlined its beauty.

It also had no landing gear.

At least, it had no  _ traditional _ landing gear, with rubber tires and oleo shock-struts and all of that - obvious hoverpads lined the lower quadrant of the fuselage as the plane came in and floated ten feet above the cracked runway, gliding effortlessly and rapidly along its repulsion field.

Tracer blinked, hard, to convince herself that this wasn’t just some hallucination. She recognized it now as it came closer: A Hawker Streak. They’d started development of it decades ago, started selling them a little over a decade ago, but the plant ran into problems and the planes hadn’t started to roll off of the line until a year or two past.

They were back-ordered for the next  _ thirty years _ .

Tracer had never seen one before - up until a year or so ago, she hadn’t even seen photographs of one, just computer renderings. Truth be told, she hadn’t expected they’d ever  _ really  _ be made. Another pipe dream never to be finished.

It was real, though, that much was certain - it pulled up in front of them and came to a stop, bobbing just slightly on its hoverpads.

Emily didn’t have a lot of interest in aircraft, particularly. She tried to pay attention when Lena talked about them, and she’d learned some, but there was just  _ so much _ and it all tied together. She had no clue what this was - other than one of the most beautiful things she’d ever seen, of course. It had gold-coloured highlights in several places, gleaming white and spotless otherwise with black windows blocking out the interior entirely.

“Sombra,” she twisted to call over her shoulder toward the car without needing to look away. “Is this how we’re going on holiday - did you  _ steal _ this?”

“This?” Sombra’s voice sounded incredulous, even shocked. “No, this, uh… this wasn’t me. Huh.”

The door to the airplane opened, flipping outward and extending into a narrow stairway that led up to it - from the ground, right up to a pair of shining polished black boots, slim-cut black pants, a black suit jacket over a white button-up, black tie, and then above that, Widowmaker’s grinning face.

Tracer stared, blankly, her brain refusing to process anything for a moment. The most gorgeous aircraft she’d ever seen, with one of the most gorgeous women she’d ever seen  _ inside _ it, and she had that grin on. That cool, controlled grin - that sparkle in her eye which said she knew exactly what was going on, exactly what she’d done and exactly what she was doing.

Tracer was frozen. Her mouth, on the other hand, ran of its own volition. “Sh-she’s in a suit for the love of god she’s in a suit Em I-”

Emily swallowed, nodding slowly but not blinking. She definitely owed Widdy a point for this one. “I can see that, love,” she murmured slowly.  _ “Believe me _ , I can.”

With a sigh, Widowmaker leaned to the side, stretching one arm above her head to support her weight against the doorframe. Her other hand stretched out in a languid gesture as she called out,  _ “Alors, _ are you coming?”

“V-very nearly!” Tracer called back with a giggle and a grin, instinctively  _ trying _ to spin time up and twist it around so she could just  _ be there _ already, but the Accelerator was in her suitcase and she had to go the slow route.

That gave more time for looking, though.

Emily hit a button on her keyfob, sending the car on an auto-pilot route home as they hefted their suitcases and made their way out toward the airplane. Widdy just stayed there, stood there, watching them both with those sharp and gorgeous golden eyes.

Of course, Lena ended up in front, but Emily didn’t mind that one bit - she got to grin and giggle softly as she watched Lena all but sprint out across the tarmac and up the stairs.

When she actually  _ got _ there, though, Lena found she didn’t know exactly what she wanted to do. The problem was that she wanted too much, really - to keep looking, to ask questions, to just throw herself into Widdy’s arms and embrace.

...and pants.

The grin on Widowmaker’s lips grew as her mouse approached, and then sharpened drastically when she suddenly stopped - stunned, stilled, stayed in an instant. Her eyes were wide, her breaths coming in short pants that Widowmaker suspected were only  _ half- _ inspired by the jog she’d taken to get over here. The hint of pink in Tracer’s cheeks, she suspected, was quite the same.

_ Much better, _ she thought, with a soft chuckle as she leaned forward. She kept her arm against the side of the door, but her other hand was free; free to reach out and run over the base of Tracer’s skull, halfway up the back of her head before pulling, slowly and smoothly but strong.

Tracer met her mouth with enthusiasm - enthusiasm and a soft noise that flew from her nose delightfully, but Widowmaker wasn’t willing to accept anything less than total success. She’d surprised the girl, she’d stunned her, and now she would finish the job.

As Widowmaker’s fingers tightened in her hair, Tracer’s heart slammed against her ribs. She felt the sniper’s low growl in her mouth more than she heard it, as a chilled tongue sought hers and then teeth set against her lip.

When Widowmaker pulled back, dragging her teeth out along the sensitive skin, she drew a whine from Tracer’s nose and could feel the woman’s knees nearly buckle. “Mmm,  _ better,” _ she purred against her mouse’s lips before planting a soft kiss on them and backing away with a gesture. “Now, inside, get your luggage packed away.”

“G-ye, ha, um,” Tracer stammered, swallowing and half-falling forward into the airplane with a grin and a breathy chuckle. She spun on heel and flashed Widowmaker a wink, and a finger-gun as well. “I’ll get  _ your _ luggage packed away!”

Widowmaker sighed heavily, closing her eyes and pinching at the bridge of her nose as she heard footsteps coming up the stairway. “ _ Cerise, _ whatever will we do with her?”

“I have a few ideas,” came the soft and warm reply from Emily - quite the one she’d expected, in fact, and her grin widened even further at that. Then more at the the hands which she felt grip her tie and draw her smoothly forward.

Her hand dropped away from her own nose in an instant, falling to the back of Emily’s neck instead and returning the gesture, the two of them drawing each other in to a deep and heated kiss - Emily’s hand twisted around her necktie and she felt it drawing her forward, felt it tightening around her neck, and it was very nearly too much.

Some little impulse of competitiveness overrode that splinter of her which tried to react with fear, though, and she pushed Emily back against the side of the door with a growl which sank right into the redhead’s mouth. Emily gasped as Widdy broke off the kiss, dropping to her neck instead. Her hold on the tie relaxed and she ran her hand back through long hair instead, eyelids flickering for a moment before Widowmaker withdrew.

Emily’s hand slipped from her hair, trailing a fingertip down the necktie - a gesture which her eyes followed before flashing back up to meet Widdy’s. “The suit is  _ very _ nice,” she murmured, “but not half as nice as you, if I’m honest.”

Widowmaker smirked, raising an eyebrow. “Truly? Ah, this is convenient.” She turned away from the outside world, her hand dropping to Emily’s to pull her into the aircraft as a wide and toothy grin crossed her lips. “I quite plan on the garment not surviving the journey, after all...”


	2. Enroute

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Serious Summary: Widowmaker, Tracer, and Emily come up with a creative way of passing the time as the airplane takes its flight to who-knows-where. What _ever_ could one think to do with a soundproofed aircraft, one's girlfriends, and time to kill, hmm? Such a difficult dilemma.
> 
> JFL summary: Widowmaker's new heart gets a hell of a workout.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Notes: NSFW
> 
> On account of the sex, that's why it's NSFW. I mean there's some plot too, I'd say it's about half and half (but I haven't counted words or anything), but I'm just saying if you _dont_ wan't to read Tracer, Emily, and Widowmaker having sex in an airplane, then you should just skip this chapter.  
>  (If, on the other hand, you _do_ want to read that, then you are very welcome ;D)

The airplane was a thing of beauty inside as much as out - even moreso, perhaps. The walls curved outward, the colour of dark toasted coconut serving to reduce the harshness of the light. Lavish leather furnishings and polished dark wood completed the look, and it fit perfectly with Widdy’s suit.

Tracer was practically drooling, and grinning like a fool as well - the engines spooled up as it swivelled around for takeoff and she turned, dropping her suitcase unceremoniously and largely forgotten on the ground.

What was intended to be a question quickly turned into nothing much of anything at all, as all the breath stalled in her lungs at the renewed sight of her girlfriends: Widowmaker and her suit half-visible behind Emily’s gorgeous and effortless peach and green blouse-and-skirt combination.

She just stood, and watched, and grinned, and forgot to breathe as Emily slid her suitcase under a seat and then stepped closer with a soft smile. Closer and closer, eyes holding hers, until they were barely any distance away at all.

“I’m breathing,” she promised softly, glancing over Em’s shoulder briefly to Widowmaker who laughed.

“Mm, and not nearly heavily enough,” the sniper purred, “but there will be time for that in a moment.  _ Alors, _ I suppose you have some questions first?”

Emily opened her mouth to speak up, but was unsurprisingly beat to the punch by Lena. “How’d you  _ get _ one of these?” The pilot stared around openly at the interior of the aircraft, devoting about a third of her time to that and the rest to staring at the other two women.

“Mm, I may get jealous of the look on your face,” Widowmaker sniffed, pouting slightly, “if you keep looking at it like that.” The look of momentary apologetic shock on her mouse’s face, though, was all she wanted - she laughed, waving a hand and shaking her head.

She slid into a soft leather chair, a recliner of sorts, as the autopilot took the plane up. Tugging on each of their hands brought Tracer and Emily into her lap somewhat - each of them quickly laying back against her, warmth and skin, breath and soft noises, and she smiled at all of it.

“This aircraft,” she murmured, turning to plant a kiss against Emily’s brow as the redhead nuzzled into the crook of her neck, before looking over to Tracer’s delighted and excited eyes with an arm around each of their shoulders. “It was a gain from a prior life, you could say. Purchased by  _ Amélie et Gérard LaCroix,  _ yes, some ten or twelve years ago now.”

A slight sigh escaped her nose as her lips seemed determined to twist into a soft frown, her eyes unfocusing as she cast her thoughts back through turbulence and unpleasantness. “It is difficult to recall the exact date,  _ mais…  _ it was something like that, yes...”

The beauty of it all was underlined by a sudden sadness, for Tracer at least. She knew that Widdy had a tenuous relationship at best with her memories of her life before. Tracer didn’t know what to do about it, either, really - she knew Widdy didn’t like being called by that name, generally, or being thought of as the same person. There were some exceptions, though.

For the most part, they seemed to boil down to whether  _ she _ was choosing it, or whether somebody else was choosing it  _ for her _ , which made plenty of sense.

“Sorry,” Tracer mumbled, laying the side of her head down on Widdy’s shoulder and raising a hand to her chest. She found Em’s hand already there, playing with the necktie, and she let out a single soft giggle as their fingers intertwined.

Widowmaker, though, laughed dismissively. “Sorry? What for? Nonsense - why should you be? It is better for some to be gained through the hardship. I am glad that this machine is finally seeing use.”

It had been a long time. Yes, the craft itself hadn’t been delivered until about six months back, but it hadn’t flown since - and before that, it had languished in a factory somewhere, useless and grounded as technicians poked and prodded at it to work out the last few kinks before releasing it to the world.

Dark blue lips wrinkled in distaste; her thoughts were doing peculiar things, spurred on by some tiny twinges of her newly-constructed heart. She didn’t like that, she didn’t like this heart, not nearly as much as her old one.

Then, though, Emily and Tracer each sighed - not in unison, exactly, but one beginning before the other had yet finished - and they sank deeper into her embrace, and they were so warm and so near, and her heart had a twinge of an entirely different sort.

Perhaps it was not so unwelcome a development, after all. There were upsides to this new organ.

“I am pleased to be able to share it with you,  _ mes cheries,” _ she murmured, “and much else as well. It is taking us to where we will be spending much of our vacation.”

“That’s nice,” Emily sighed, eyes closed as she tried to identify the subtle scents of Widowmaker’s perfume - whether it was on her skin or simply impregnated by repetition into the fibres of the suit’s fabric. She couldn’t, of course, but she still tried - drew in deep nosefuls and held them until her head spun delightfully and she grinned at it all.

“Where is it, by the way?” Tracer cocked her head, “And where’d you get this suit and all? I thought you didn’t have any other clothes, but I don’t see any price tags - learned from past experience, didja?”

She grinned triumphantly as she chuckled, and Widowmaker had a moment of lack of comprehension - just an instant where her eyes narrowed slightly as she tried to figure out what her mouse was talking about, but then, she placed it.

Placed it and began to chuckle, and then to laugh, enough to rouse Emily from her resting position into adopting a more curious demeanor.

“Oh, you-” Widowmaker withdrew a hand from hair, holding it to her mouth as she giggled, “you  _ believed _ me when I said that? Oh, foolish girl,  _ ma souris, _ but no - I have  _ many _ more clothes than that! I may have had none at  _ that particular safehouse _ ,  _ mais, _ rest assured, my wardrobe is the envy of many.”

Tracer grinned gladly at the sound of Widdy’s laughter, and stroked a finger down her necktie. “Envy of  _ me _ , for sure - did you know I go wild for a girl in a suit?”

Widowmaker’s grin widened, predatory and sharp and feline as she quirked an eyebrow. “Oh  _ really? _ Hmm, I had no idea of that, of course…”

Emily giggled softly and Widdy had a look in her eye that suggested she most certainly  _ had _ known, but Lena could only grin at that. Grin and lean in to kiss at her neck and the underside of her jaw.

“Mmm,” Widowmaker sighed contentedly through her nose, threading the fingers of one hand through Tracer’s spiky hair and holding her head in place, encouraging her mouse’s attentions. “ _ Alors, _ I have been, I suppose, lying.” She flashed Emily a grin and quirked an eyebrow. “Will I be admonished for this?”

Emily rolled her eyebrows and laughed softly, shaking her head. “Not sure where this view of me as some kind of lawful paragon’s come from, love,” she murmured, leaning in to tug at the knot of Widdy’s tie, slowly loosening it out (but not removing it entirely) as she gazed deep into those golden eyes. “ _ Clearly _ I’ve got to do something to change your mind about it.”

Widowmaker’s grin widened further. “Mm, it will need to be a drastic demonstration indeed -  _ mais, _ I digress. I have fabricated a persona, with Sombra’s aid;  _ Danielle Guillard _ , a supposed sister of  _ Amélie.” _

There was a pause before she said the second name, just a slight one but there - noticeable, if only barely. Emily made no mention of it, though, and no reaction; she started to undo the buttons of the pristine white shirt, one by one, her heart racing a little faster at the sight of Lena’s mouth working at blue skin, the occasional flashes of white teeth.

Nothing escaped Widowmaker’s sight, of course, and she saw her cherry’s gaze flick away. She knew just what was drawing her eye, too, one hand still tight in Tracer’s hair and spurring her onward. Her mouse knew well, though, knew that warmth and pressure were key; soft, almost sloppy kisses punctuated by sharp nips that each registered a distinct if slight increase in heartrate. She was up by nine percent already.

Ten, with that look in Emily’s eyes.

“I have regained some of what my former family left behind, and there will likely be more in the coming months with my new…  _ freedom.” _ The word came out sighed and almost heated, the concept almost half as thrilling as the mouth on her neck and the hands on the buttons of her shirt, and that clear lust hanging in the air. Despite her cherry’s slow progress.

She had a little hope, too, that Emily might crumble - that the redhead’s desires would outweigh her dedication, and that she would lose her ability to move slowly, to tease, to do little more than watch. That she would collapse forward, wanton and desperate. For  _ her. _

Even more than that, though - even more than she wanted Emily to abandon all pretense of this game and throw herself headlong into lust - she very much wanted her  _ not _ to.

It looked so much better in her eyes, on her face; that lust and clear desire. The last button fell to her practiced fingers, and then Emily sat back slightly, tracing warm fingertips over Widowmaker’s skin. She could feel the trails, long lingering ghosts of contact after the digits had passed by, and Emily’s eyes followed them. The result was that the warmth seemed to follow Emily’s gaze, to be a result of the heat in her eyes rather than the warmth of her touch.

It was delightful. It was almost entrancing. It was a gorgeous display, and at fourteen percent above baseline, Widowmaker quirked an eyebrow above her wide grin.

“We are no longer curious about my holdings, are we?”

Emily shook her head resolutely but slowly with a smirk, while Tracer just grunted a negative sound as she bit almost furiously at Widowmaker’s collarbone and the sniper laughed, nudging a wide metal button on the armrest with her thumb. The leather chair reclined into an almost horizontal position, designed  _ apparently _ for napping, if one was to believe the brochures, but there were always ancillary purposes for any given thing.

“The button, _ ma souris,” _ Widowmaker hummed, almost softly singing the words.

“Your trousers are still on,” Tracer muttered swiftly with a smirk, “I’ll get on your  _ button _ in a minute when we’ve dealt with that.”

Again, Widowmaker laughed, as Emily snugged the tie up tighter once more. Not nearly enough to be  _ tight _ , but as if she was wearing it despite the fact that her shirt was now gone.

Tracer’s hand fumbled blindly at where she expected to find the recline button, and a moment later she happened upon it and let her seat down as well. It gave much better access and much better angles, although as she tried to reposition she bumped a knee hard against the armrest between the seats.

“Bloody bollocks,” she hissed, withdrawing, but Widowmaker was clearly having none of that. Her free hand snapped over and thumbed a hidden catch, the armrest collapsing downward until it was flush with the seats, and her other hand tugged Tracer in again by the hair. The Brit had just enough time to start to laugh before her mouth was met with soft chilly blue skin again and her laugh gave way to a sigh.

By wordless agreement, Emily continued to undress Widowmaker - slowly but not hesitantly in the slightest, she was very deliberate in her delays - while Lena continued to make use of the new opportunities granted by every inch of skin revealed.

Widowmaker’s hand stayed tangled in her hair, but it didn’t direct her - Tracer roamed freely, kissing down ribs and then inward to a bellybutton, trailing up over stomach to briefly nip at a nipple. The hand never forced her anywhere, but it  _ did _ clearly indicate that she should dwell in certain locations and she happily did.

Tracing the bare tip of her tongue in teasing circles around Widdy’s bellybutton, Lena glanced up just in time to see something approaching from above: Emily, leaning down to catch Widdy’s mouth for a deep and heated kiss which made Lena forget what she was doing entirely. A gentle tug in her hair reminded her and she carried on with a soft whimper through her nose, but refused to pull her eyes away.

She couldn’t quite describe what it was like - had never been able to, from the first time in their apartment, couldn’t put her finger on just what about it struck her so deeply. Yeah, she’d always liked seeing women kiss, but something about it being  _ Emily _ and something about it being  _ Widdy _ , it just turned her into hot mush inside and made her brain abandon every effort at conscious thought as she watched lips press against each other and saw jaws shift and heard the small noises that came, the little twitches of eyebrows and the way Em would huff a soft noise when her lip got bitten.

Another tug in her hair reminded her that she had other things to do than just stare, but she marked that off as something to bring up later. Later, though. Not now. She felt a hand stroke at her cheek - Emily’s hand, she could tell by the temperature - and then continue downward.

She followed it happily.

The fingers quickly took care of the button - and the  _ other _ button, and the metal catch, all of the bizarre closures of a pair of suit pants - but the zipper was left up to her, it would seem, as the hand slipped underneath fabric and disappeared from view.

Widowmaker hummed into Emily’s mouth as a warm hand slipped between her legs, nodding slightly and gripping tighter at a fistful of red hair. Seventeen percent became eighteen as her mouse took the zipper between her teeth and tugged it down, leaving Widowmaker to growl approval deep into Emily’s throat.

Emily groaned in return, repositioning to let Lena slip past her - Widdy’s mouth dropped to her collarbone and she gasped, then let out a sharp laugh as she felt Lena’s tongue trace along her finger between Widdy’s legs and then pass off of the tip. After that, she was aware of the digit only through Widowmaker’s hand clenching occasionally in her hair, or in that dark voice which hissed and whispered sharp commands or soft pleas in English or in French; they all sounded so similar after a while.

_ Yes. Oui. More. N’arrêtez pas. Don’t stop. _

Whether they were instructions or requests hardly mattered, they sounded against Emily’s lips and against the skin of her neck or her breast as Widdy’s mouth wandered, the words becoming more frequent and more fervent as time went on.

Emily continued to stroke small circles and occasionally run her fingertip along that slick ridge, sometimes catching a flick of Lena’s tongue and once, even, gaining the full devotion of Lena’s mouth as she pulled slightly away to catch that finger lightly between her teeth and suck on it for a few seconds until Widowmaker growled and let out a wordless shout of frustration which had Lena and Emily chuckling and returning their devoted attention to her.

The airplane continued unminded, slicing through the air like a razor blade through silk; even if one had been hanging off of the wing, even if the engines had been shut off entirely, there would have been no indication at all of what was happening within. Black windows blocked any view of the interior though they were perfectly clear from within, and the soundproofing would put recording studios to shame.

The autopilot certainly took no note of it.

For those within, though, it was a triumphant return to familiarity, to comfort, to each other. Emily sighed as Widdy dragged fingernails down her ribs, and gasped as chilled lips locked onto her neck and sucked tightly. Lena groaned as fingers twisted in her hair and held her in tight against that magnificent taste, almost so tight that she couldn’t breathe, but she’d happily undergo a little suffocation for the sharp and silky swears that filtered into her ears. Widowmaker soaked in every sound and muscular twitch of the other two, letting herself float on their attentions and their warmth.

Deep, distant tremors in her core were plenty familiar, and the two were quite well-practiced at fanning them on. Emily hooked a finger through the tie at her neck, tugging herself forward for a particularly passionate kiss with a heated moan flying from deep in her chest while at the same time, Tracer decided to pull some trickery with her tongue which was every bit as quick now as it was with a word, but  _ far _ more practiced.

It had taken much trial and much care for Widowmaker to feel comfortable, in so many ways - slow measures of minutes spent or weapons left off to the side, and in so many ways it had spread. Her comfort was fickle, often retreating at the drop of a pin.

There was a loss of self-control that was integral to the activity at hand, however. She always had used her growls and hisses as a way of masking her own noises of frustration, as parts of herself longed to lose themselves in lust whilst others locked down their hold all the tighter as twitches and tremors grew further out of control. She always had hated losing control.

It had, in many ways, been a problem.

She could feel it now, even. With her comfort and all that had happened, even still, there was much in her which very much wished to  _ not _ let go. As Emily’s teeth nipped at her neck and drew a gasp, her jaw clenched shut in an effort to stifle the involuntary noise. As Tracer slipped a finger deep into her, her shoulders drew firmly backward to stifle her back’s un-ordered urge to arch and roll.

_ She _ was in command now, though. Not her body. Not her training, not her forming, not her forging - for a year now or more she’d been making her way, slow progress toward  _ true _ control. The ability to do what  _ she _ chose, not what she’d been programmed to desire. The ability to even  _ have _ choices, to have desires.

Widowmaker’s eyes flew open and she grabbed a handful of Emily’s hair, pulling the redhead’s mouth down to her own breast; half-thoughtless words flew from her mouth, but she let them, she urged them on - gave them breath and strength and no further thought, she let her lips say what they wished to spur the others on.

All at once, it overwhelmed her. A sharp, intense discomfort was washed away in a flood of so much else; exquisite sensations as her shoulders relaxed and her back arched, as her jaw relaxed and shouts flew forth, as her fingers tightened until the joints of them strained. 

Widowmaker  _ screamed _ as she came, her head slamming back into the wall behind her. She gasped and groaned in the aftershocks, holding the others where they were for a moment as control tried to reassert itself in the absence of ecstasy, her hands forming firm fists for a few seconds before she coaxed them into relaxing and stroked fingers back through hair again.

Emily stayed where she was, roughly, repositioning just a little to take up a place with her head resting on Widdy’s shoulder as she took a moment to just breathe. Her lungs drew fast and sharp, her heart beating as if in a race as she reached down to stroke at Lena’s cheek, looking and giggling at the wide grin on her lips.

“Mmm,” Widowmaker sighed, tugged her mouse in to her other shoulder and casting a look doward across herself to her clothing draped over the back of one of the other seats. “What a pity, the garment survived.” Her lips twitched up into a smirk, and then a full grin as she met eyes in turn. “I suppose we shall simply need to try again, hmm?”

Tracer snickered, kissing at Widdy’s neck and breathing deep the scent that lingered on her own lips and chin - subtle, perhaps, but still entirely dizzying and delectable. “Won’t hear a word against it from me, love,” she murmured softly as she sucked at the skin just behind Widowmaker’s earlobe, grinning at the warm noise which drifted up from the sniper’s mouth in response. “Seems like the new heart does a good job of things, eh?”

Widowmaker laughed and nodded. The new organ had performed admirably, indeed; it was dropping again now, but had held itself at a faster rate and for longer, and she even thought that her orgasm had been easier than they normally were. It was an intriguing and exciting thought, certainly - one which momentarily sent her heartbeat spiking another half a percent, even as Emily’s head lifted from her shoulder.

“Hold on, love,” Emily tapped her fingers on Widowmaker’s belly idly with a raised eyebrow as she looked across blue skin to meet Lena’s eyes. “Did you just say  _ new heart? _ ”

Widowmaker’s eyes studied the ceiling above them, even as her chin dropped slightly in a single nod. The engines shifted in pitch and she chuckled lightly as Tracer spluttered softly at her side. “ _ Alors, _ I promise it will be explained to you,  _ ma cerise - mais, _ can it wait for a moment? We are coming in to land, I believe, and this is a sight I was hoping to share with you.”

Emily laughed softly, shaking her head. Sometimes it felt like she never got an explanation - for all Lena had told her, she still didn’t actually know  _ everything _ about the Slipstream accident, or even much about it. Nor about the Accelerator, nor about almost anything. Confidentiality, and protocol, along with the simple fact that Lena  _ herself _ didn’t know most of it. Everything Lena knew, she did by this point, but it still wasn’t all.

She’d resigned herself to sometimes just not knowing. By comparison, needing to wait for a couple of minutes was nothing at all to ask. Grinning, she kissed Widdy on the cheek. “‘Course it can, love. Anything can wait a moment for you.”

Widowmaker’s smile widened by a few degrees at the words. It was nice to have a reason for them, now - as foolish as she thought Emily might be for loving her, it was good to know it. She no longer needed to worry over  _ why _ the redhead did these things. She was a kind person, and one in love. The exact same was true of her mouse, of Tracer.

That was all the explanation needed.

For another moment, they laid there, but as the cabin shifted just barely Widowmaker knew it was time. The airplane was coming in for a landing, pitching down to meet the Earth, and she really  _ did _ want to share the view with them.

“Come, come-”

“Thought you wanted us to look outside?” Tracer interrupted her teasingly. “Gotta make your mind up, love!”

Widowmaker’s eyes flashed over, narrowed above a thin smirk.  _ “Do _ I, now? Up. You must see this.”

There were general soft groans of complaint but the other two went along with it, limbs disentangling as they all stood. Widowmaker led the way, not bothering to put on another scrap of clothing - two socks and a tie around her neck was plenty, and a smirk held her lips as she walk on toward the cockpit and could practically  _ feel _ the other two staring at her.

She was right, too; they were.

Widowmaker laughed when she made it to the cockpit and then felt lips on the back of her neck, obviously Tracer’s from the angle and the height. She reached back and ran her fingers through hair there for a moment, then tugged gently to free the mouth from her neck and pull Tracer around in front.

“In a moment,  _ cherie, _ ” she chuckled, “but first you must see this.”

Emily wrapped an arm around her back, warmth spreading across her side as the redhead leaned against her - across her front as Tracer sighed and leaned backward, and Widowmaker’s smile stayed fixed as she looked out of the windows at the front of the cockpit.

At the moment, nothing but cloud was visible. Perfect weather for her purposes, the greyish white occasionally flickering with brighter or darker patches as moisture formed beads on the glass that streaked backward, but then in an instant it was all gone. The cloud disappeared, replaced instead with a picturesque lake and the stone mansion rising from the centre of it.

She always had loved glass. If you knew how to look at it just right, you could see so much, and looking now she saw the reflections of the other two overlaid atop the  _ Château _ . The shock in their eyes, the surprise and confusion and dawning delight. Her smile sharpened as she pulled them in tight in her embrace and laughed lightly, teasingly.

“You did not think I would trap you in that tiny safehouse for a week, did you?” Another laugh at the looks on their faces, particularly the abashed one on Tracer’s.  _ “Non, mes cheries -  _  welcome to  _ Le Château Guillard. _ Welcome to your vacation.”

Tracer stared, half-breathless as the castle in the lake approached swiftly overtop of the myriad dials and toggles and display screens of the cockpit. The hoverpads enabled the plane to land on the surface of the lake and draw slowly closer, and if it had been anyone other than Widowmaker, she wouldn’t have believed it. Not any of it - from the jet to the castle, not in the slightest.

Given that it  _ was _ Widdy, though, it somehow felt just perfectly fitting, and Tracer giggled as the arms around her tightened up and she leaned back into the embrace. One hand dropped to hold one of Emily’s as she shook her head in soft disbelief that had nothing to do with the stuff on display but was directed instead at her own insane, absurd luck.

“This is- y’know, one of these days I might start to think you like surprising us a little  _ too _ much, love,” she grinned as Widowmaker giggled, just barely, the noise making her heart leap in her chest. Emily laughed her agreement as well.

Tracer spun around, pulling her eyes away from the magnificent sights  _ outside _ of the window and devoting them to the things inside which were just as beautiful, if not more. She pulled Emily and Widowmaker both into a hug, wrapping them up tight enough that a groan leaked out of her nose. “This is bloody perfect!”

As she returned the gesture and pressed a kiss to Emily’s brow, Widowmaker couldn’t help but smile and silently agree.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What better day than the new event launching, to update, eh? I like this chapter generally, there's lots of nice sweetness but there is still substance and plot to be developed, which is what I want :D
> 
> Speaking of that new event! I am, quite honestly, so damn happy with it. Not only is it a lot of fun, not only is it great to get some more lore revealed, but _damn if that revealed lore doesn't fit in well with Underwatch's backstory!_ Honestly, I am going to integrate that opening cutscene into a later chapter of Act II, because it'll work so well. I know exactly what reasoning I'm going with for Gabe's actions - and this sorts some things out so well; why Jesse ran away, the steepening of Gabe's paranoias, the Overwatch/Blackwatch rift. Hell, the sniper's even seem to be using Moira's fucking tech _and that's just perfect_ because I'd said Talon was getting fed stuff for a long time anyway. Gah, it fits so well and I'd love to talk about it if anyone's interested - comments here or click my profile and go ahead and hit me up on Discord :D
> 
> So! Moving from that onto other things: personal life! For those who don't know, my wife's immigrating from the US which means that it's long periods of waiting to hear back from CIC (Customs and Immigration Canada), followed by intense scrambling periods of "you now have two weeks to get these eleven things and four forms and this in-depth check and medical procedure carried out or else we might cancel your application". So. These past two weeks? Well, you probably already guessed where this is going, heh.
> 
> Yeah, so I've been kind of busy. Throw a broken filling and the dog needing her shots on top of wifey's CIC-mandated stuff, toss in a recently moved sibling and a workplace where all my coworkers are going on vacation leaving me with extra hours to cover (although the money's nice), and garnish with a couple of other exciting but time-consuming life development-y things, and, well, I've been a little strapped for time. I think, though, that that's starting to settle back down now - wrote some yesterday for the first time in a week and it went well, got this polished and all, so I think I'm returning to smoother sailing.
> 
> So, what'd you folks think of this one? I like writing smutty stuff generally, but I never know quite how explicit to go with it. I suppose it depends largely on you folks, actually - just what it is you're looking for, and what you're likely to do with the material, heh. Generally I kinda try to walk a bit of a line, though, but I shift it this way and that. Anyway, it's fun to write sensory, active passages!
> 
> Also, some stuff about Widowmaker! The Danielle Guillard thing is gathered from the one laptop on the Chateau FFA map, and aligning that with her Cote D'Azur skin (the laptop in question confirming a trip booked to Cote D'Azur, for one Danielle Guillard). I figure it wouldn't be the hardest thing for Sombra to set up at all, eh? After all, she created Sombra.
> 
> (Speaking of Sombra, I like her haircut!)
> 
> Anyway, hope you liked it! I'd love to hear comments from you about Retribution, about Overwatch generally or my Underwatch verse, about you yelling at me to write more - whatever you want to say, I want to hear :D
> 
> C'mon back next time when Emily gets some explanations, and both of them get a tour.


	3. The Grand Tour

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: thoughts/discussion of suicidal ideations and tendencies; past-tense.

It was a gorgeous bed, four-poster and appointed in fine sheets. Emily couldn’t even guess at the threadcount, but was willing to bet that it was somewhere in the region of how many dollars she earned in a week - which was to say, far higher than sheets really needed to be.

She wasn’t thinking about the sheets, though.

One fingertip just barely traced along blue skin, soft in a way that those sheets could only ever hope to be - the fingertip traced a line that was thin almost to the point of being invisible, just barely a lighter blue than the skin around it. A scar, just a shade lighter than the rest of it, right over the heart.

“And then…” Emily’s prompt trailed off into silence, her eyes flicking from her fingertip to Lena’s gaze; Lena, who lay on Widdy’s other side and looked back at her. Lena, who looked so sad but so happy with her arm draped across Widdy’s belly.

“And then,” Widowmaker shrugged softly, one hand latched firmly around Tracer’s side and the other trailing up and down Emily’s spine, “I died. I could not…  _ wish  _ for it, exactly; but I could ensure that the situation led to certain gaps in security - gaps which your Captain Amari could then make use of, and-”

“And kill you,” Emily muttered, shaking her head slightly and pulling closer in. Her hand pressed flat against Widowmaker’s chest, just below the curve of a breast - at first, to no avail, but a moment later there came the unmistakable twitch of a heartbeat. It brought a smile to her lips.

Widowmaker liked the look of that smile. The timing was undeniable, as well, so synchronized with the infrequent beat of her heart.  _ “Oui.” _ She pulled the pair in closer, tighter in an embrace to draw in a deep breath. Anxiety couldn’t be the right word, but confessions always were awkward.

It was the truth, surely. That must be the awkward part - to tell the truth and foolishly trust that it wouldn’t be used against her. Widowmaker sighed, her chin describing the slightest arc of a headshake. “I… told myself that it was for her benefit. For yours. To keep you both safe.”

Widdy’s words were always soft, but these were particularly so; not just in volume but in tone. She sounded hesitant, which was so unlike her but not entirely without precedent. Emily recognized the tone of her hesitant confession from its predecessors.

“I believe that this was a lie, to myself.” Widowmaker let out a laugh, one single laugh, opening her eyes wide up at the ceiling.  _ “Alors, _ perhaps one of these days I will stop telling myself those -  _ mais, _ this is not that day. Perhaps there are so many I can never find the bottom of them…”

It didn’t feel like she was just talking about getting shot anymore, but Emily didn’t prod at the soft spot and neither did Lena. They pulled in closer, their arms overlapping as they encircled Widdy entirely.

Widowmaker sighed.

Safe. She felt  _ safe. _

It didn’t mean she could be honest. Not even with herself - and if she could not with herself, how could she hope to with them? At the least, though, they deserved some effort to that end.

_ “Alors,” _ she began again with a soft shrug, no answer to her own rhetorical question provided. Maybe one simply didn’t exist to  _ be _ provided, she couldn’t know. How could one know when one was being truthful with oneself, without access to that deep wellspring in the heart and gut which gave the answer so clearly? Without that, she could never know.

She knew some things, though, and those she could say.

“I wished not to lose,” Widowmaker whispered, barely, her words blending in with the gentle shifting of curtains and bedposters in the evening breeze through the open window. The other two had asked for it to be opened after their tour - or at least, the start of it - to cool off, but now it was drawing later and they had ceased their tour and taken up residence on the bed instead.

Emily held on tight, not just as if she never wanted to let go, but also as if she wanted very much for Widdy to never slip away. Both were very true, and very much mirrored by Lena on Widdy’s opposite side. An embrace that described an emotion, a desire, a need.

“Never again, I wanted to lose; I-” her voice faltered, pieces of programmed response faltering and flickering as she thought not  _ about _ a thing but  _ around _ it, and even the memories didn’t quite fit right. A frown took her lips as she shook her head. “Toward the beginning, I thought of it much. They… fixed that.”

She was somewhat surprised when one set of fingertips, and then another, traced at the sleeve of a tattoo on her forearm. Traced at the tattoo, and the scars hidden underneath - repaired to the greatest extent that Talon’s medical staff could attain, yet not rendered quite nonexistent. They always remained, even repaired and hidden by the tattoo, that reminder of her former weakness, not just of the early days but even of the days  _ before _ .

Why, then, did she try so hard to  _ reattain _ it? If it was weakness - which it could only be. What other than weakness could spur one to draw razors or knives, or jagged metal and glass up and down one’s wrists; what other than weakness-

She shunted the thoughts from her mind with a soft grunt. This was always the way it went. Circles, and circles, and circles - what were  _ her _ thoughts, and which ones were Talon’s, implanted, she could never tell. Did she truly wish to survive, to believe that wanting death was weakness? Or did she truly want to die, and believe that a torturous survival was worse than an emotionless death?

Perhaps that was why she tried so very hard for an emotionless  _ survival. _ Surely that must be the best of both worlds.

Yet, she strove so very hard to work her way back toward emotion, even while she knew that she could never gain it - but did  _ she _ know that, or had Talon only told it to her, in words and in chemicals and in small things implanted, physically or otherwise, into her brain and her mind?

A brush of lips across a scar drew her mind to the present, and she knew then that she didn’t need to know what she wanted in regards to all of that. She wanted  _ this -  _ as she opened her eyes and looked down to see Emily backing away, Tracer leaning her head forward to take Emily’s place and press a gentle kiss to a wrist that sometimes she could still see torn and red with her own blood.

Torn, red, bloody raw and ragged-

The memory sparked another, her lungs ceasing in their breath as Tracer looked up at her, met her eyes. Their fingers interlaced, their forearms side by side. The setting sun highlighted faint scars on Tracer’s wrist as well, ones which Widowmaker suspected were due to neither her mouse’s captivity and struggle, nor to her aerial accident.

At least, not  _ directly _ due to her accident. The Slipstream, that thing which still stirred Tracer’s mind in the night. How many of those scars found their root there, even if it was not the metal of the aircraft which had caused them?

A kiss found her cheek from the other side, Emily, and she knew even before the words began that she was about to be told that she needn’t speak of anything if she didn’t want to. She knew as Emily took a small breath, lips parted against the skin of her cheek, and she didn’t need to hear the words to know what they would be.

“But I  _ do _ want to,” she protested softly, turning her head to catch Emily’s eyes, and she knew immediately that she’d been correct. It was written there plainly, and Emily nodded to confirm it as well.

“...but there’s…” Tracer’s voice came from near her shoulder, soft and interrupted by a sigh. “There’s a difference between wanting to, and being able to, isn’t there?”

Widowmaker’s lips twisted into an open frown, parted as she tried to press words from between them, but failed. She was incapable of it - there were no words to say, no sounds to make or phrases to form, and for once it had nothing to do with Talon’s conditioning. There was no alternate force in her mind countering her, no wall blocking her path, only…

...nothing. No path, no way. No words. Nothing that she could think to say about it.

There never had been.

“I love you.” Soft words, not  _ her _ words but those of her mouse, and then Tracer’s lips pressed against her cheek, the imprint of her nose lingering from the warm tear that had dripped down it and against Widowmaker’s skin; her own eyes were still devoid of them, of course. Always dry.

“Me too,” Emily confirmed from her opposite side.

It was still so much - and in this moment of all, it made the least sense, even as something deep inside her disagreed as it always had. Even as something reminded her that this was when love came out the  _ most, _ during moments of weakness and vulnerability; that that was what set it apart. Even as some small voice reminded her of this, she couldn’t help but think that it seemed wrong somehow.

Even Talon had been unable to silence that voice.

She squeezed them both a little tighter, but still the words failed to come. There was nothing to be said about the times she’d tried to remove herself from the world, or perhaps more aptly tried to remove the world from herself. To remove all of the pain and horror the only way she could think of.

Here they were, supporting her, holding her close and reminding her of their presence and their love and their care, and she couldn’t even do them the decency of speaking about it. At least, that was how she thought about it.

“...then,” Widowmaker swallowed; if she couldn’t find anything to say about her former attempts to end her former life, then she would simply do what she could and continue with her explanation,  _ “notre souris _ took me to the doctor, to Ziegler. She manufactured a new heart, implanted it - it was… perhaps problematic at first, but those issues were addressed, and now all is well.”

A wet laugh leapt from Tracer’s throat as she curled in tighter against Widdy’s body, not sure herself whether it was more of a protective gesture or a vulnerable one. “You might’ve left out one or two bits there, love.”

Widowmaker shrugged. “Mm. Yes, Sombra was there as well.” She dipped her chin to fix Tracer with a slightly mischievous grin. “Is that a more full account, now,  _ ma souris?” _

The two laughed, Tracer and Emily each, with Lena nodding and smiling afterward. “Yeah, ‘course, that’s all the important stuff. Along with, y’know, a little bit of theft and threatening.”

“Well, I suspect that between the two of you, you’ve  _ plenty _ of theft and threatening to go around,” Emily sighed, hugging the pair of them tight. “Maybe double that if Sombra was involved as well.”

Widowmaker’s head withdrew slightly as she let out a noise of shock, but her arms stayed just as firmly wrapped around them each. “What!  _ Cherie, _ I should be offended by the implication that you believe there is  _ any _ person more versed in threat and theft than myself.”

They laughed again, all three of them this time, arm in arm and wrapped up tight - where one of them ended and another began hardly mattered. Pale freckled skin giving way to some that was blue, unblemished, not raising goosebumps in the window’s breeze, and then to more that was just slightly more tanned than the first with fine hairs standing upright in the mild chill.

Breaths blended into each other, hearts beating not as one. They beat in turn, in tandem at times, a cavalcade of soft thumps - every one of which Widowmaker felt, and registered, be it from her own heart or one of the others. Tracer’s, the fastest, and Emily’s in the middle of course.

Combined, though, they were one of the most wonderful choruses she’d ever heard, and she thought again of how stupid it had been for her to seek to remove an instrument from that orchestra, a voice from that choir. Her heart from theirs.

She really did need to send something of thanks to that doctor.

The heartbeats shifted and slowed along with breaths, and Widowmaker knew that the other two had fallen asleep. Emily had been first, but Tracer had followed soon after.

They hadn’t finished with their tour. They had hardly even  _ started _ before taking to the bed to explain what exactly had happened, and now the dying rays of the sun flickered across their faces. Widowmaker could just barely see them from the corners of her eyes, straining to look.

She thought she remembered some things, but time could be so unkind to memory - and  _ hers _ was more suspect than most, she knew. There was much she had forgotten, or been made to forget.

Could she really recall how her heart had acted around Gérard? All else regardless, she had been quite sure at the time that she loved him. Or at some times, at least - the clear times. She was sure of it now, as well.

Her heart didn’t thump desperately against her ribs, looking down at the two beautiful faces slumped against her shoulders and chest - as Tracer snorted a snore, shifting slightly and then laying with her lips parted. Widowmaker’s heart increased its pace by a percent.

She could remember  _ kills _ which hadn’t managed anything that drastic.

“I suppose I do, then,” she whispered to the still air as the other two continued to sleep. Her fingers wove through their hair and stroked down shoulders - her fingertips all but glowed with their warmth, it seemed to her, and a gentle smile held place on her lips.  _ “Je vous aimes, mes chéries.” _

This was what she had wanted. This was what she thought she had lost. This was exactly what she feared, because having it meant she  _ could _ lose it, but it seemed difficult to acknowledge that negative at the moment. Her thoughts flicked back to being in their apartment, not in the middle of the group then but on one side - an arm behind them both and soft sheets and warmth, and not a thought for escape or avoidance, not a thought for defence or cover or ambush.

To just  _ be _ , to simply exist, with them each. How -  _ how _ could that be such a thrill? Nothing compared to combat, still, of course, but an increase of four percent was definitely not nothing at all.

Four, for doing nothing. Four for simply being here, with them.

She had carried out whole missions with less of a reward than that, and here it was openly presenting itself in warmth and snores, and though her smile was slight, it was constant.

The dying sun shifted through to the moon, and her smile widened just slightly. She always had loved the moon, and their faces looked so beautiful in it; awash in the soft, pale glow.

For a long, long while, she was able to just lay there and be.

...and it was perfect.

 

\---

 

Emily awoke quickly, at first, but followed that up with a groan and a slow recoiling from the sharp light in her eyes. She heard a soft chuckle, the light disappearing as something soft and firm laid over her closed eyes - a hand, Widdy’s hand.

“Are we awake now,  _ cerise?” _

She heard the words just before a soft kiss followed them and met her ear, and she sighed and sank deeper into Widdy’s embrace, smiling at the laugh which came next.

“Ah, perhaps not then.”

“M’awake enough to notice I’ve got no clothes on anymore,” Emily mumbled into Widdy’s side, grinning as she felt ribs twitch with silent laughter.

Widowmaker stroked a hand down Emily’s arm, smiling as the redhead tried to bury her face away from the light - or perhaps simply to be closer to her, and she really didn’t care which of the two it was.

Though, she did  _ prefer _ the idea of the latter.

“Mmm,  _ oui,  _ I tired of their intrusions during the night,” she murmured softly as she continued to stroke at Emily’s skin. It didn’t rise in goosebumps quite as easily as Tracer’s did, and that contrast always made engagements interesting.

Emily sighed happily, wriggling in closer to Widdy’s side with her eyes still closed. “Good plan, love. Very good plan.” Then, realizing something, she perked her head up and glanced around with a slight frown. “Hold on. Where’s Lena got off to?”

Widowmaker’s smile was gentle, but fixed firmly in place as her gaze drifted toward the door. Just barely, she heard noises floating in, much of her mind diverted to focus on the warmth of Emily pressed up against her side.

As she let out a soft sigh, Widowmaker laid her head back on the pillow and directed her smile to the ceiling instead - or, rather, to the cover overtop of the four-poster bed. “She is making us breakfast,” Widowmaker explained with a tiny giggle, “and she believes herself to be  _ subtle _ . She thought I was asleep when she rose.”

Emily hummed a long sigh, burrowing into the blankets and wrapping herself around Widdy as much as she could - she’d always felt wonderful like this, skin contact was always lovely. “Mmm, her sleep schedule’s prob’ly all messed up,” Emily mumbled sleepily before stretching in a yawn. “All that mucking about in time takes its toll, y’know.”

Normally, Lena wasn’t a morning person in the slightest - although, that had always only meant  _ her _ mornings. She’d go and spend a few weeks in America on a mission and then come back and complain constantly about the sun being up at the wrong hours and all the like.

Thick curtains, that had been the key - and it wasn’t as if Emily’s schedule had ever been much more regular to begin with, anyway, between jobs and meeting and… extracurricular activities. She was never really bothered by the requirements of it all, it was just another thing that made Lena, Lena.

Widowmaker nodded softly, humming in thought. She’d noticed it herself, some - although early mornings were hardly something they’d ever shared much. If there were plans or  _ schedules _ involved, they tended to wake up simply alone.

Or, rather, her mouse did. She didn’t, of course - didn’t wake, because to wake, one needed to sleep.

It hardly seemed fair - and it hardly seemed like laying in bed and  _ pretending _ to sleep while Tracer snuck off with a giggle to find the kitchen and make breakfast would make any kind of atonement for that unfairness. At the same time, Widowmaker knew that it would. Silly, but true.

She very much did want to give Tracer what she could, when she could, as well. Perhaps it could somehow lessen the importance of all the things she was  _ unable _ to provide.

Emily let out a sigh which blossomed warmly against her side, and that encouraged all thoughts of worry out of her mind to be replaced by thoughts of the present. It was easy to sit in the dropship and think of all the ways a mission could go wrong, but when one was in the field and active, one needed to focus on the task at hand.

Widowmaker’s smile widened as she felt soft, warm lips pressing kisses to her ribs, and then they trailed their way upward and then inward, along her neck and her jaw as she tipped her chin back, and then finally dropped it to meet Emily’s mouth with her own.

She always had been deliberate in it, Emily had - deliberate in her kisses. They were often slow, they were always powerful, they were intensely passionate. Widowmaker mirrored it in turn, a hand slipping behind Emily’s back and trailing up her spine to bury itself in the warm depths of her hair.

A tiny little thrill of success as Emily needed to twist, to shift, in order to gasp air in through her nose - Widowmaker was glad that it didn’t force their kiss to break. She held Emily in close with a hand in her hair and one on the small of her back, drawing in firmly with the latter and pressing their bodies more tightly together in a way which fetched a swift noise from the redhead’s throat.

Widowmaker devoted a moment’s attention to that, to her throat: mouthing at it as she curled her hand to bring nails in to bear against Emily’s back, grinning at the gasp she heard.

Or, rather, more accurately,  _ gasps. _

Still smirking wickedly, Widowmaker pulled her head away to look toward the door. As expected, she saw her mouse standing there with a tray of food, bare and wide-eyed and pink.

“Ah,  _ bon matin, ma souris -  _ are you quite alright?” Widowmaker let her smirk fall away, replaced by an innocent expression as she dragged her unseen nails down Emily’s back and made the redhead shudder. “You look as if you have seen something quite shocking.”

Tracer stared openly, breaths and heart running faster as all thoughts fled her mind at the way the sunlight made Em’s hair glow where it draped over her shoulders, the way Widdy was leaned back against the headboard, blue contrasting against the dark wood stain, the grin on Em’s lips as she looked over.

“Oh, hello there, love,” Emily murmured, more breathlessly than was strictly necessary. She shifted her weight a bit, pressing one knee not so subtly forward in between Widdy’s legs and bringing a soft groan from the sniper’s lips. “Looks like a good breakfast!”

Tracer swallowed heavily as a shiver almost made the dishes clatter against the tray, and then swallowed again in some attempt to restore her own powers of speech. A moment later, she even succeeded in just that. “W-well then why’re you trying to make me  _ drop it _ so much, if it looks so good, eh?”

Widowmaker chuckled, and Emily laughed and flipped over to lay back against the headboard with a wide grin as Lena walked over with the tray in one hand and her Accelerator haphazardly worn - none of the straps done up, just looped over her shoulders, but just something enough to keep her grounded.

She handed the tray over to Emily for a moment as she pulled the harness off of her shoulders and dropped it to the ground, Widowmaker leaning in and peering at the food with curiosity.

To say that it was  _ unlike _ a French breakfast would have been an understatement on par with saying that the Château was moderately grand. This breakfast was two steps short of being a monstrosity - six eggs sunny side up, with what looked to be at least four or five worth scrambled beside them. Thick chunked pan hashbrowns, slabs of ham which had been fried, ten slices of toast, five oranges halved, a pitcher of orange juice to go with, jam and butter for the toast, a half-dozen sausages, and one single croissant.

“Am I to take that as some sort of slight?” Widowmaker pointed a finger in the pastry’s direction, looking to her mouse with narrowed eyes.

Tracer looked back with a wide-eyed (and totally falsified) look of innocence. “What? No! Wha- of course not, love! When’ve I  _ ever _ tried to annoy you, eh?” A roll of the eyes was the response as Emily laughed, and Lena got into the bed beside her.

“Looks like a lovely breakfast, love,” Emily assured, planting a kiss on Lena’s cheek.

Widowmaker nodded her agreement, still looking at the tray in some surprise. “Indeed. Although I still harbour some doubts. Given that it is  _ your _ food, after all.”

She wasn’t perturbed, though - Tracer just smirked and leaned back against the headboard, stretching her arms above her head. “Oh yeah? Well, I’ll be the judge of that!”

“No love,  _ she’ll _ be the judge of that,” Emily corrected around a mouthful of hashbrowns, “s’kinda how that works.”

“Oi! You’re eating already? So much for waiting!”

Emily gulped down her mouthful with a little dip of her head before flashing Lena an abashed smile. “I was hungry!”

“What is there to wait for, anyway?” Widowmaker reached across to pour juice for all of them, her eyes flicking from the pitcher to the other two as she smirked. “Surely, the point of this all is that the waiting is finished?”

Tracer rolled her eyes and speared a chunk of sausage on the end of her fork. “Well,  _ yeah, _ but- _ ” _ she sighed in exasperation, muffling her words then with a mouthful, “y’know, you make it hard for me to give ‘er a hard time!”

Widowmaker tossed her head back for a laugh - dismissive and bright, just the same as it had always been, and Emily felt it sink into her warmly as she settled back against the headboard with the other two on either side.

That  _ was _ the point of all of it, or at least one of them. To do away with the waiting, with the distance, with everything about them being decided by everybody else - to be together. Her smile interfered with her eating to some extent but she never wanted it to waver, even as the other two seemed to be engaged in a race to see who could eat the most. Between Widdy’s oddities and Lena’s, it was almost a wonder that the Château had enough food to feed them.

There was, though. Enough and then some, even: one half of an orange left, a piece and a half of toast, none of the really good stuff. The orange went back in the fridge and the toast, Widdy said, would be for the birds.

Then, the tour began. Emily loved it, and she paid rapt attention, but the building wasn’t what she remembered first and foremost anyway.

She didn’t remember, first and foremost, the hallway filled with grand paintings in gold-gilt frames; she remembered instead how wonderful Lena had felt, wrapped up in her arms and leaning backward and tickling her nose with the spiky mess of hair. She recalled how good Lena smelled, and how Widdy had laid an arm around her shoulders to direct her attention to this piece of art or that, her long slender arm gracefully pointing out details and accenting brush strokes.

Emily did appreciate the art, it was gorgeous. It just wasn’t half as gorgeous as they were.

The first detail to spring to her mind wasn’t the types of flowers in the garden, or the way the greenery sprung from stone so vividly - the first thing she thought of when that sprung to her mind was the way Widdy had smiled at it, and how her face had glowed in the rising sun, and how Widdy’s fingers had interweaved with hers and they’d just stood for a moment and inhaled the scents of flower meeting water as the breeze blew in off the lake.

“Far cry from a couple of cactuses, innit?” Lena chirped, wrapped around Widdy’s torso almost like some sort of sloth in a way that made Emily giggle, even as Widowmaker’s lips twitched.

“Cacti,” she corrected with a soft murmur, slipping an arm behind her mouse’s back and pulling her in tight and grinning at the chirpy laugh which was returned.

She didn’t go into depth in the library, didn’t list the most noteworthy of the volumes they had - first editions and signed copies and rare manuscripts, many unique and without equal, but they didn’t seem as important as the way that Emily dropped into a settee and tugged them both back with her so that Widowmaker ended up with one of them on each side, one breathing against her shoulder and another lying against her chest, and she just grinned at the books on the walls like a fool.

There were artifacts in display cases, but she didn’t much care in listing all the details about them - only enough detail to get Lena’s attention, to get her leaning over the glass case with interest and focus, so that Widowmaker could pull some trick. Sneak in to kiss her on the back of the neck, or just lazily draw fingernails down her back, or even simply pull Emily aside so that when Lena looked up, she got far more of a sight than any revolution-era weaponry could provide.

It was a gorgeous place, and Lena loved every inch of it, but not because of the stonework or the views or the rugs which had probably cost five times as much as her first car. She didn’t love the cellar because of the wine selection, she loved it because of the way Widdy’s fingers traced across the casks and bottles, following trails in the dust which must have been the result of a hundred soft touches just like that. She loved the windows not just for the gorgeous views of the lake, but for the way the three of them would cluster in close to take advantage of those views, and end up with arms in arms and chins on shoulders and all just wonderfully close.

It was a tour of the grounds, and the structure, but it was more than that as well. Not just an introduction to an unfamiliar locale, but also a  _ re- _ introduction to a familiar arrangement, to each other, and each one of them loved every minute of it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This took way too long, sorry - I haven't written anything for about a month now, and I'm sorry about that. Life intervened, but I think I'm back at it now!
> 
> I liked this one for a bunch of reasons, even if it was less explicitly happy than the others for much of it. That's still important to me, though; I don't know, maybe I'm just not cut out for pure fluff, at least not for any real noteworthy length. I can do it for a thousand words, or for a few, but - particularly with these characters, it doesn't really seem fair to go on for chapters and chapters and not have even a few thoughts go errant. So, I hope you didn't feel like it dragged the tone down too much! I wanted this to be a break from the intensity of BSN, and I really do think it is, but there's still gonna be some more solemn stuff too. I think this is gonna be about it, though, for what that's worth.
> 
> I really like several of the descriptions and things in this one, even if my mind's a _little_ sludgy at the moment, but I've gotta say I ran into things with pronouns a few times, heh. Particularly given that I'm swapping out perspectives between them, kinda, it made things a little rougher; some people say "just use the character's name", but honestly that feels so unbelievably cludgy to me. More than two or maybe three instances of any given name in short succession just makes a work feel like a "Dick and Jane" book to me, haha; "See Emily. See Emily hug Widowmaker. Emily likes Widowmaker. See Emily hug Lena. Emily likes Lena. See Lena hug Widowmaker. Lena likes Widowmaker too!" I mean, obviously that's exaggerated for effect, but truth be told it doesn't _feel_ that different to me. So, if you're one of these people who hates epithets or alternate arrangements, and you just want names, uh, I'm sorry, but I may not be the one to read, heh! (But I'd imagine you've figured that out by now XD)
> 
> Also, I wrote another thing for this universe - an account of the "Venice Incident", set just before, during, and after the events of the Retribution event. You get some insight into Gabe and his revelations re: the conspiracy within Overwatch, as well as some of the setup for why exactly he fell so hard, plus some of the Blackwatch squad banter that we all loved so much from the event! It's called ["That One Moment"](https://archiveofourown.org/works/14675388) and there's a link to it if you think it sounds like fun and you'd like to check it out! :D
> 
> C'mon back next time (which, I promise, I will try to get up a lot faster than this one, haha) when Widowmaker, Lena, and Emily all go for a swim in the lake! Widdy's been swimming in it before, but never _quite_ like this. "Swimsuit optional"? Maybe more like "swimsuits need not apply"!
> 
> [EDIT: okay, I was completely wrong about which chapter came next, whoops]


	4. Wake-up Call

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lena wakes up slowly, unsure at first of whether she's dreaming. Later, she falls asleep again. One or two things might happen in the interim.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey folks, back after a bit of an absence and I'm sorry about that - I'll try to say something if it happens again, but hopefully it won't. Anyway, hope you like this, thanks!

“Ohhh…  _ god _ yes, please, more!”

These were the words that woke Lena Oxton from her slumber. Not woke her swiftly or abruptly, but woke her all the same. Soft, desperate words, heated - a familiar voice and a familiar tone, and she always had absolutely  _ loved _ it when Emily begged like that.

In her sleepy haze, she grinned at the warm thoughts and feelings swirling through her in the aftermath of a dream she couldn’t remember, but one which must have been very nice if those words lingering in her mind were any indication.

“Do you like that,  _ chérie?” _

Lena’s brow furrowed a little. Was she  _ still _ dreaming? Maybe she was, but they  _ sounded _ like real words. She was alone in bed though, or at least so she thought. She couldn’t  _ feel _ any bodies next to her.

She felt some movement, but dreams could move.

Another noise, a little gasp - one of Emily’s - followed by a smooth chuckle from Widdy, that deep and soft sound which had always sent shivers down Tracer’s spine, as it did now.

...could people shiver in dreams? You weren’t supposed to feel pain, she knew that. She was pretty sure she didn’t usually feel this foggy in dreams, but it was hard to tell. They were  _ dreams _ , after all.

“Mnnmrrmm?” Her attempted words came out muffled into a pillow, and it  _ felt _ like fabric against her face, and then there was another velvety chuckle.

“Ah,  _ notre souris  _ is waking up, it would seem.”

“Mm.” Emily’s words sounded muffled, but were still audible. “Don’t care. She can wait her bloody turn.”

The awareness of it all clicked into place at the same moment for Lena. She wasn’t asleep, she wasn’t dreaming - the words and noises were real, actual sounds from Widowmaker and from Emily, and they were doing  _ something _ that was making the bed move and making Em make those noises and-

“Hold on!” Tracer exclaimed suddenly, pushing herself up from her facedown position with a deep gasp of breath and a suddenly-pumping heart. “Are you two  _ carrying on without- _ ”

Her words fell short entirely as her eyes caught on the scene before her. It was a large bed, a nice one, and apparently gave the other two enough room to be off to one side without touching her. Emily lay face down with her head wedged between two pillows, Widowmaker straddling her back and grinning widely as her hands worked at Emily’s shoulders.

There wasn’t anything explicitly sexual about the act of a shoulder rub, even despite the fact that they were both completely bared to the rising sun and the gentle breeze, but there was something decidedly sexual about the noises Emily was making - particularly thrown in with the trailing thoughts of what she’d imagined to be a dream.

Not that Tracer was complaining. Although, that was primarily because her brain had ceased most function as she just stared.

Blue thumbs stroked a decisive line up the back of Emily’s neck and the redhead let out a lewd groan into the mattress, one which left Lena a little dry-mouthed.

“Oh,  _ yes _ Widdy please don’t stop.”

“Mm, why would I stop before you are  _ finished?” _ Widowmaker’s words came out slightly growled as she kneaded at a tight knot of muscle in Emily’s shoulder, gripping lightly with her knees.

“That’s incredible, yes right there, you-”

“I know just how you like it,  _ chérie…” _

“D’you-” Lena swallowed hard, thickly, as Widowmaker glanced over and her grin widened another few degrees. “D’you have to be so uh, y’know-” Emily cut her off with a loud moan and Widowmaker huffed a laugh, raising an eyebrow.

“Have to be so uh,” she continued to try to get out the statement even as her partners made it entirely clear what their stance on the matter was - even as Widowmaker’s fingers pressed down, working in between Emily’s ribs, slowly forward and down toward where her body met the mattress, “s-so- so uh, y’know, um, uh…  _ like that?” _

Widowmaker stopped, holding perfectly still with her hands on Emily’s sides, an almost confused smile on her face. “So…  _ like what, _ exactly,  _ chérie?” _

Emily groaned, this time in frustration. “Dammit, love, did you have to stop her  _ right there? _ I mean she was almost done my back and-”

A smooth chuckle came as Widowmaker leaned down to plant a kiss on the back of Emily’s neck, just below the hairline in the soft fuzz there, smiling as she inhaled the redhead’s scent and heard her soft sigh into the mattress.

“Do not fear,  _ cerise,  _ I have it all under control.” She didn’t move, though, in the slightest - even when Emily wriggled her back to try to get an extra little bit of massage, Widowmaker moved perfectly in time to prevent her fingertips exerting any more pressure than they already were. “I only want her to explain what she meant, that is all.”

Lena coughed, trying to gather her scattered thoughts as her blood rushed in her ears, overriding Emily’s muffled and slightly sad sounds. She stammered an attempt at an explanation, but her words were no more collected than her mind was. “W-well I just meant um, y’know, that the uh, you- huhm, uh-”

Obviously she didn’t have any actual  _ problems _ with any of it, it had just caught her out of left field and left her reeling, that was all. Reeling and unable to really speak, so she abandoned her efforts with a softly-breathed questioning sound and a shrug of one shoulder.

“Rrgh she  _ meant,”  _ Emily smacked a pillow softly, pushing her head up from the mattress to rant in a long, run-on sentence that began as a growl but shifted toward a whimper, “that we’re getting her all turned on by carrying on like this and she’s incapable of functioning and I  _ know _ that it was my idea to tease her like this but I didn’t expect this massage to be so damned  _ good _ and now I just want to call it all off so we can keep going.  _ Please?” _

There was a moment of silence in the wake of the little outburst, a moment during which Widowmaker leaned down again, slowly, and chuckled into the short hairs of Emily’s neck, grinning at how they stood on end to meet her. She locked eyes with the still startled-looking and slightly-blushing Tracer, and murmured softly, “Oh, I know you do. I  _ told _ you I had it all under control. Did I not? Did you think she was the  _ only _ one to be teased?”

Emily practically dissolved with a groan, collapsing forward into the pillows as her cheeks burned, but a moment later Widowmaker seemed to take pity on her and resume the massage.

She had expected Widdy to be good at it, given how dedicated and careful she was - her knowledge of anatomy, her precision and control. Even how good she was at detecting and reacting to little indications of feedback, flinches or slight noises or muscular twitches. It made perfect sense that she’d be good at a massage.

Emily still hadn’t expected  _ this, _ though. She felt like every muscle was being unwrapped from her bones one by one, rolled flat so every kink and wrinkle was stretched out even, before the whole thing was pressed perfectly and gently back into place. She felt squished and soft and relaxed and  _ incredible, _ and while the first moan had been accidental, she’d thought it would be fun to tease Lena by playing it up.

It had been, too, and she didn’t regret it for a second - not even if the price was herself getting teased a little in return.

In fact, that was an added bonus.

“C’mon Lena, love, don’t be sore ‘bout it,” Emily muttered, unwilling to shift her head to the side for clearer words as Widowmaker’s strong fingertips worked their way up her neck and then forward along her jaw and a guttural noise came unrequested from Emily’s throat. “And if you  _ are _ sore about it, bloody hell can Widdy ever help you with that.”

_ “Merci, cerise,” _ Widowmaker chuckled, running her hands up into warm hair and massaging at Emily’s scalp, even forward as far as her temples for a moment. “It is good to have one’s efforts appreciated.”

She easily caught the twinkle in Tracer’s eye as the brit smirked and raised an eyebrow, crossing her arms before she spoke. “So, what - you thought you’d tease me a little? Have some fun at my expense, first thing in the morning?”

“Second-favourite thing to do in the morning, love, you should know that by now.” Emily sighed with a giggle to accompany.

“You’re a devious scoundrel,” Tracer retorted with a huff, crossing her arms, “and a pervert, to boot.”

_ “I’m _ a pervert?” Emily gasped in faux offence, still not lifting her head because her neck was far too floppy at that moment. “Excuse me, but  _ you’re _ the one whose mind went everywhere dirty when all I was doing over here was enjoying a nice, innocent massage!”

Widowmaker chuckled at the little duel as Tracer rolled her eyes and took in a breath to retort, but she’d done just about all she could from this position. She held up a hand, silencing Tracer’s words for a moment. “Flip over.”

“Yes ma’am,” Emily responded immediately, and moved as soon as the weight was removed from the small of her back. Widowmaker took a similar position on Emily’s belly instead, resting weight on her hips as well and smiling down at her. The first stroke of a hand was not in any way directed at a muscle, but instead to brush a stray strand of red hair out of Emily’s face.

Then Widowmaker rubbed at Emily’s neck, and Emily let out a string of heated swears, and Lena slapped at her own knees. “Wh- you’re doing it on purpose now!”

“Oh  _ fuck _ yes I am Lena, have been the whole time - I’m a naughty girl and you know it and-”

“Stoppit!” Tracer clamped her hands over her ears in joking protest, a wide grin on, shaking her head as Widowmaker continued to calmly massage at Emily - lifting one arm and working her way from the shoulder down, deliberately, slowly, seemingly without any care for or even notice of the antics of the other two. “Why, if you don’t stop it, I’ll-”

“You’ll  _ what?” _ Emily’s head dropped over to face her, grin wide and eyes heated. “Go on, love - tell me how you’ll stop me, eh? You gonna spank me? Gag me? Choke me? Come on!”

Then, as Widowmaker rubbed her thumbs firmly through the tired muscles of her hands, Emily pressed her head back into the pillow behind her and would’ve arched her back if it hadn’t been for the person sitting on top of her, and  _ that _ wasn’t even an exaggerated reaction for Lena’s benefit.

Her mouth returned to its swearing.

Lena gaped (which didn’t help her dry mouth any at all), staring openly for a few seconds before shaking her head shortly. “W-well,” she muttered to herself, sitting more upright and starting to shuffle to a different place on the bed, “well  _ two _ can play at  _ that _ game, love.”

Widowmaker’s grin only widened. She already quite knew what her mouse’s plan was - so surprising, sometimes, and so predictable at others. The whole thing, in fact, was unfurling quite according to her plans. She’d known that Emily would react the way she did, wanting to tease Lena, and she’d known that the redhead could be tipped carefully over the edge to where she lost her patience. She’d known, as well, what Tracer’s response to that would be.

Or, at the very least, she’d had very strong suspicions about it all. She was no mind reader, nor prophet - but, she did smile as events continued to play out as expected. She only needed to shift slightly, move her legs out a little to make space for Tracer’s to fit in between her own and Emily’s body.

There was a certain joy in being encircled by a warm body, in being held - not grappled or restrained, but held, coddled, appreciated. Widowmaker withheld a slight noise as Tracer’s arms slipped around her from behind, warm palms running sweeping lines across her ribs and her belly. She leaned back, just slightly, into Tracer’s embrace; soft, warm skin pressed against her back and a little giggle accompanying as her mouse kissed at her neck.

“Comfy there, love?” Lena quirked an eyebrow, squeezing Widdy tight for a moment as Emily continued to groan in the background. She swept Widdy’s long hair forward over one shoulder to bare her neck as the frenchwoman nodded.

Emily’s vocalizations gave way to a long sigh as Widdy finished with her one arm, laying it gently at her side again; it felt like it had just been through the wash and now it was time to hang it out to dry, and her eyelids slid open slowly above her grin.

Evidently, during the brief period she’d had her eyes closed, much had changed. Primarily, Lena’s tune, so to speak - Emily caught sight of her peeking out beside Widdy’s shoulder, looking quite wicked with a grin on her lips.

That was around when Emily noticed the hands.

Hand, at first: hidden under a long cascade of silky hair that nearly covered one whole side of Widdy’s chest, one of Tracer’s hands sat obscured. Its presence was made clear by its motions, though, and the way they disturbed the hair in question -  _ and _ the way that Widowmaker sighed in response as the mostly-unseen hand squeezed at one hidden breast.

The other one made its appearance as Emily swallowed heavily, Widdy’s thumbs digging deep into the flesh of her forearm in a way that made her want to shut her eyes again, but she didn’t want to miss a moment of this show. Nothing stopped her from groaning, though, as Widdy continued to dissect her musculature and as Lena’s hand tickled along blue skin, danced over ribs, and then traced a line down past a belly button and lower.

Widowmaker let out a warm noise, soft, as she felt Emily’s body shift beneath her. With two people sitting on her hips, there was no hope the woman could  _ move, _ but Widowmaker still deeply appreciated her efforts.

Tracer’s lips met her neck, parted and warm and with teeth nipping behind, the gesture timed perfectly for a warm finger pressing between her legs, but Widowmaker refused to be dissuaded away from her task.

Multitasking had always been a skill of hers, though.

She began to shift her hips, rolling them forward to increase the pressure against Tracer’s hand, and her mouse urged her on as her other hand wandered freely, groping and stroking, dragging nails along her ribs or pinching at a nipple.

A heated hum of sorts came from Emily’s nose as Widowmaker kept massaging her arm, but the other one was plenty free - she lifted it from the bed and reached over to touch a little blue skin of her own.

It was swatted away.

Emily gasped in surprise, just briefly, as Widowmaker smacked her hand away before it could find purchase - not hard, but decisively enough and  _ fast, _ and it was followed by Widdy waggling a finger with a smirk.

“Ah-ah-ah,” Widowmaker admonished gently, and interrupted her own words for a particularly deep moan as she arched back against Lena but never for a moment stopped rubbing at Emily’s forearm. “You did not wish your massage to be interrupted,” she murmured, twisting to catch Tracer’s mouth with her own in an awkwardly-positioned but passionate kiss before she turned to the front again to flash Emily a grin.

“So, it will not be. No interruptions-” she gasped and then let out a single laugh, murmuring in soft and appreciative French as her grin widened and her hips rolled forward again. “No interruptions  _ for you, _ that is,  _ cerise.” _

Lena giggled, somewhere between triumphant and mischievous as she bit down on Widowmaker’s neck. The sniper lowered her shoulders with a groan, and then set Emily’s other arm off to the side.

“...I see now, the error of my ways,” Emily murmured solemnly but wryly as her eyes flickered over the other two, pale skin contrasting gorgeously against blue as her arms sat limply at her sides. “How truly terrible a torture this is.”

“That means she likes it,” Tracer breathed against Widdy’s ear, the warmth washing over her cheek as well in a way that sent some tremor of sensation down her spine.

“I know she does,” Widowmaker chuckled softly, leaning forward to rub at Emily’s neck and jaw, and then down into her shoulders. As she did, she slowly lowered herself forward until she was perpendicular to - but not  _ quite _ touching - Emily’s form.

“Bloody hell you’re good at teasing,” Emily whispered intensely, trying to lean up from the bed enough to catch a kiss. A firm grip on her shoulders held her down, though, and she let out a defeated whimper even as Widdy laughed. Of course, she knew she had no hope of any motion Widdy didn’t want her to take, not from this position - but it wouldn’t be as much fun if she just sat there limply, not for either of them.

“Mm, are you saying this only to flatter me?” Widowmaker quirked an eyebrow, grinning widely as her hands slipped down to work her thumbs deep into the underside of the shoulder joint - the soft flesh below and outside of the collarbone, which drew a sharp groan and a hiss from Emily. “Do you wish to curry some favour from me?”

“Don’t think I could  _ think _ of a bigger favour than this, love,” Emily muttered swiftly. It was good that she wasn’t in a position where she was  _ permitted _ to choose between the massage and sex at the moment, because she really didn’t know which one she would’ve chosen and either one would’ve felt like a bit of a loss.

This way, it was all decided for her.

Widdy’s hands roamed as freely and firmly as they had over her back, and it felt every bit as good, but Emily’s brain had found enough other focus that her mouth had mostly ceased its running. The occasional little moan or groan or soft whisper of an exhalation, but she was far too intent on watching and listening to really say much of her own - at least, at first.

Widowmaker would have none of that, though. She increased her efforts, riding her fingertips along and in between Emily’s ribs enough to get a long, low, drawn-out groan from the redhead, even as Tracer sucked at her neck and rubbed fingertips of her own in small circles.

It didn’t take long for the position to be untenable for the massage, sitting astride Emily’s hips, but Widowmaker had no issues with repositioning. Grinning, she shifted backward, downward, encouraging Tracer to move first - right off the edge of the bed as she leaned forward to massage at Emily’s stomach and sides.

She sighed a soft string of hissed French curses as her mouse slipped two fingers into her and dragged fingernails down her back, and she could see the desperate desire in Emily’s eyes. It wasn’t time, though - not  _ yet, _ at least, there was still a massage to finish.

There was at least one thing, though, which no amount of change or death had been able to alter - one thing which had, through years of toil and pain, success and failure, always been true of Amélie Guillard, then Amélie Lacroix, and then Widowmaker as well.

She always had  _ loved _ putting on a show.

This was such a perfect opportunity for it, for a show, with her audience so near and so raptly attentive - the clear desire and intent focus shining in Emily’s eyes, the little reactions in shifts of her face or her body. An interactive display, as well, as audience was drawn in with performer and the lines between them blurred.

Widowmaker devoted herself to it, and thus to each of them, rolling her back up into Tracer’s hand as she sighed when warm lips met her side, and all the while she held Emily’s eyes. All the while, she carried on with her self-assigned task, the massage.

There were numerous upsides to anatomical knowledge. She’d learned some of that in her former life, muscles and joints and ligaments - the fundamentals of it, at least, so she knew what to protect, and what to stretch, and what was vulnerable to injury. A dancer’s mind full of dangers to the joints turned into a handy playbook for assaults on soft spots when her life took an abrupt shift, and her pool of knowledge was supplemented and widened substantially as well. Vasculature, the nervous system, field aid, and on and on her education continued.

It was always a joy to find new uses for old things, and this was no exception. It was, in fact, a delight; she was quite glad that she could draw those long and almost-pained groans of satisfaction from Emily’s lips. The expressions on her face were glorious, and Widowmaker toyed with them through the control mechanism that was Emily’s entire body.

A thumb, run firmly along the line between two sections of muscle in the leg, and Emily’s red eyebrows drew tightly inward and upward as her mouth pulled open; fingers working at a knot of tension where muscle gave way to ligament near the knee, and Emily’s lips flew wide with a gasp as her neck arched back into the pillow.

A glorious show, to be sure. Who was audience and who performed was a question to be asked, but one to which the answer hardly mattered.

Her mouse was quite dedicated to her goals as well, and Widowmaker made sure to let her appreciation be known - loud sounds of encouragement flowed freely from her lips, causing Emily to visibly strain to remain laying back rather than taking a more active role.

The only problem - if it could even be  _ called _ a problem - was that, sooner or later, the show had to end. Emily only had so much body, and while every inch was a delight, they did run out after a while.

A few moments of fervent swearing and focused rubbing at Emily’s feet drew that section of things to a close, and the redhead took a moment to just relax back with a heavy breath and a heavier sigh. Widowmaker watched, supporting herself against the edge of the bed as Tracer’s fingers moved slowly, surely, firmly in and out. Not flying, not rushing, but every movement was entirely deliberate, and every one was effective as well. Widowmaker clutched at her mouse’s other wrist, nodding and biting her lip before letting the cry fly free instead.

She felt the bed shift, her closed eyes opening to see Emily moving, and in a snap decision, she decided that wouldn’t do.

However, she hardly wished to exclude the audience from the show. Any good showperson made sure every member of the audience feel like they not only had a front-row seat, but rather that they were right on the stage.

Emily mewled softly as strong hands ran up her calves and the outsides of her thighs, and then held her in place on the bed by her hips. She didn’t have time to form any complaint, though, as Widdy tugged her downward with strength that was just slightly surprising, and Emily’s brief squeal of shock turned into a sharper one of pleasure as her knees were tugged apart and a colder-than-normal mouth pressed in between them.

“Mmmmassage is done then, I take it?” Emily’s words came out expectedly breathless as her hand pulled away from its position on the sheets, and nothing swatted it away. It was free to twist into long blue hair, tightly, and the noise that Widdy muffled into her in response was wonderful. Deep and sharp, guttural, she  _ felt _ it as much as she heard it. Maybe even moreso.

“Looks that way, love,” Lena murmured, taking a brief break from sucking marks into Widdy’s side and back as her hand slowly picked up the pace, motions refined over years and years of trials with more pretty faces than she could remember. “Looks  _ good _ too, f’I’m honest,” she added, her gaze intently focused on pale fingers in blue hair, and then snapping up higher to hazel eyes as they opened up and burned back at her.

Moments, instants, eternal stretches of motionless like photographs etched into her mind. That was how she experienced memory, how she thought all people experienced it - sometimes the images moved, sometimes there was sound, sometimes it was  _ only _ sound, or just a single frozen frame. One instant, etched indelibly into the mind to linger forevermore.

That moment was to be another one, as Emily’s knees pulled up and her head pulled back and Widdy’s back arched exquisitely under her hand, a symphony of voices crying out at once - a symphony of two, at least, perhaps not the largest but the best one Lena had ever heard, in her opinion. A snapshot that froze in her mind, and an excellent one at that.

Perfect start to another perfect day.

 

\---

 

The day itself was absolutely, marvelously, magnificently nondescript. They spoke, in a dozen different ways - excitedly or teasingly, softly or quickly, or in any manner they chose, on a hundred different subjects at a hundred different times. They wandered through the building and the grounds, together or on their own at times.

Widowmaker was so very used to counting every second. There was a constant internal rhythm like the tick of a clock, and it was vital - on a mission, it made the difference between alarms and none, between life and death, between success and failure, and it had meant almost as much on stage even before that. Timing was of utmost importance.

It was odd, then, to have it matter so little. If they took ten minutes doing nothing, or something that should only have taken five, it didn’t matter. If they got distracted on their way to one thing, and ended up in another - looking at the gentle waves on the lake instead of eating a sandwich as had been suggested - it was of no consequence. Or, at least, hardly any.

She knew that it should have been comforting, calming, enjoyable. Parts of it were. Overall, it was, certainly, but for one reason or another she found herself somewhat agitated as the day went along - not upset, but just slightly restless.

To spend time with the other two - particularly after so long apart - was a delight. Their warmth, their reactions, the little things they did; it was beautiful. It  _ was. _

Yet, she found herself feeling off. Not distracted, per se, so much as there was almost some unfulfilled impetus within her. Some urge she wasn’t carrying out.

It was probably nothing, that was what she told herself. Remnants of the stressful situation, refusing to let their claws free of her mind - she pushed it away to the back of her consciousness and thought of it no further, because Emily and Tracer deserved whatever focus she could give to them.

Throughout the day, the time didn’t matter, the clock didn’t tick, and for much of it - most, even - Widowmaker was content in a way she hadn’t been for a very long time.

...and it  _ was _ discomforting. It was ironic in a way that would’ve had her laughing, had she been on her own and thinking about it, but of course she couldn’t laugh out of nowhere. Still, she recognized the irony of being made uncomfortable by comfort.

It just didn’t seem like something she really deserved. That must have been it - a recurring thought, from early dinners onward, coming back again.

That must have been it.

That wasn’t true, though, and she knew it. She’d fought for this, as had the others. They all had, fought and struggled and thought and worked, and now, they  _ did _ deserve their reward. One and all.

Yet, the discomfort remained.

Of course, it brought with it those hollow echoes of some attempt at guilt, with Widowmaker frowning softly to herself as they sat on a large couch they’d pushed up against the window and watched the sun set over the lake.

She couldn’t  _ propely _ feel guilty over it, of course, but realized as always that she perhaps should. That this vacation, such as it was, was a  _ good _ thing, and to be considering it negatively was a bad thing. Disrespectful, at the very least, to all of their efforts and sacrifices.

It was easy to find other things to focus on. The weight of Emily’s chin, resting on her shoulder; the warmth of Tracer’s hands wrapped around hers, tightly at first but starting to loosen as the sun’s orange glow faded away into purple and consciousness surely faded from her mouse’s mind. 

Easy things to focus on,  _ good _ things to focus on, and focus she did.

So much so, in fact, that when something changed - some little thing, a movement and a noise - Widowmaker didn’t place it at first.

She didn’t sleep, not usually. Often she would take sedatives, to force a dreamless period of unconsciousness, but that felt un-fitting with the other two around and the alternative - unfiltered, uncontrolled sleep - was unacceptable for so many reasons. Instead, she would simply lay and let her mind wander and drift. Sometimes the state would stretch quite deep.

Deep, as it evidently had been - a noise drew her attention, but it took a moment for anything else to align; she was unaware of time or placement, it was dark quite suddenly, and she could feel only the faintest tendrils of whatever her mind had been occupying itself with as they fled her consciousness. Felt only ghostly flickers of thoughts and plans, and then, a slight twitch.

It was accompanied by another noise, not a pleasant noise - something between a croak and a whimper, emanating from Tracer’s nose as she slept, and Widowmaker’s eyes latched onto the reflection of the brit’s face in the glass.

She was having one of her nightmares again.

Widowmaker caught just a glimpse of her own expression in the glass as well: a sharp scowl of displeasure, and she was hardly surprised because she  _ was _ displeased, but that wasn’t all she saw. She also noticed another pair of eyes flicker open, partly curtained by red hair.

“Another one of her…” Widowmaker’s soft words slipped into silence, the hand that rested on Emily’s knee tightening up momentarily.

“Mm, yeah,” Emily nodded, shifting a bit and wrapping an arm around Widdy’s shoulders, pulling both of them in close. “Yeah, I know.”

They happened a fair bit. Weekly, at least, usually - sometimes more and sometimes less, but it averaged out. Bad nights would mean a half-dozen nightmares bad enough to wake them both up, and might end in Lena frustratedly abandoning sleep altogether. Good nights might mean nothing, or might mean just one or two little moments that weren’t even intense enough to wake them.

Widowmaker tried to settle back into Emily’s embrace, and it was nice, but then Tracer twitched again and half a word came out of her mouth, and the scowl was back on Widowmaker’s lips again in an instant. It felt like there was something she should be doing, or saying, or  _ something. _

“I do not like this.”

She made a slight and slightly frustrated noise after the words came out, searching for Emily’s gaze in the glass. “Not- not  _ this, _ us on the couch. That, I like, but…”

Emily had had a lot of experience and a lot of training, for various things. Working in retail had taught her about dealing with people in various ways, her psych training had taught her other ways, a lifetime of friends and relationships and fights and makings-up had taught her even more.

Nothing was perfect, though, and she knew she was no exception. There was so much about people that couldn’t be known or couldn’t be helped - she could calm down an angry person who felt lied to, usually. She could help a hurt person struggling with distorted thoughts or traumatic recollections, often. She could lend a hand to a friend who wasn’t feeling heard, or who needed to just get something out, or was having a problem, most of the time.

It really sucked to not be able to do anything, was what it came down to, and that was something she understood quite well.

Not just for her, either, and she knew it. It had caused problems with Lena, it had caused problems with  _ them, _ because some things just couldn’t really be helped with the tools you had at any given time. There wasn’t any  _ fixing _ these dreams, not really - though Lena had tried a hundred different things, everything from drinking herself half-comatose in the evenings to prescriptions and therapies to herbal supplements to crystals and dream-catchers meant to ward off nightmares.

None of it worked. It went deeper than that, it was a part of her, but still, it was frustrating to be unable to help ease what seemed so unpleasant. Emily was sure it was the exact same for Widdy, too.

Her hand slipped free of Lena’s shoulder, finding its way to Widdy’s side instead, and resting there. Lena shivered a little and Emily’s other arm wrapped her up tight, the way she always had. Even if it didn’t  _ actually _ help in the moment.

“I know,” Emily sighed, “or at least I think I do. I don’t like it either, the nightmares and all. Damn shame she gets her sleep disturbed by this kind of stuff. It’s… rough, too, feeling like you can’t do anything to help.”

Widowmaker wasn’t sure that was right. It felt very smooth, very calm, very caring. It was very unlike  _ her _ , those reasons - save for perhaps being irritated at helplessness.

If she’d been asked, she would have stated the reason to be something more like jealousy. Tracer should not be having these effects from some past traumas, she should be being affected by  _ Widowmaker.  _ There should not have been room in her mind for troubles, room in her heart for doubts, room in her life for pain.

A stupid line of reasoning, and one which Widowmaker even knew was flawed and faulty, deeply, yet still it was the one she would have chosen. Perhaps because it was easier.

Perhaps because it wouldn’t mean she was helpless.

It was clear that she was, though, and she could feel its effects - like a dog’s fur being rubbed the wrong way, she felt as if her hackles were raised, her lips poised and ready to curl into a snarl at any moment.

“I don’t like it.”

It was all that she could say on the matter, it seemed, because beyond that things were far too vague and twisted and irrational. Beyond that, there was far too much, and so much of it she still couldn’t be certain of.

Emily nodded softly, pulling them both in tight - Lena twitching and Widdy holding as still as a statue like she did sometimes when things were going badly - and just held them. It was just about all she could do, for the most part.

There were one or two other options, though.

“Lena, love,” Emily kissed at her ear, nuzzling her spiky brown hair, “wake up, c’mon, you’re alright. Wake on up now, there we go…”

It took another moment, but the twitches and noises subsided and were replaced by a yawn and a bit of a stretch as Tracer returned to some semblance of consciousness.

“Mm, s’dark,” she muttered, one hand blindly finding itself up into Widdy’s long hair. “Sorry, was I uh-”

“Making noises in your sleep, yes,” Widowmaker responded swiftly, softly, cutting off the query before it could even be finished. She had no wish to spoil the night with some long and drawn-out conversation full of frustrations. “Small ones, very… cute, I suppose.”

Emily let out a soft laugh, squeezing lightly at Widdy’s side and following along. “Yeah, real cute, I just couldn’t resist giving you a few kisses and letting you know!”

With a chuckle and a hum, Lena flipped over a little onto her side and snuggled back into them, and nothing more was said about it for the next few moments. In silence, they held each other, until barely-audible snoring made it clear that Tracer had fallen asleep again.

Widowmaker could feel it in her heartbeat, too, in the way Tracer’s pulse slowed and lengthened; the smooth transition of her mouse into unconsciousness, and it felt far better than that twitchy and fitful sleep which had held her a few minutes ago.

She couldn’t see Emily’s eyes in the window’s reflection, anymore, but she could feel by the beat of the redhead’s heart that she was not yet asleep again. Driven by an urge to explain herself and her lie, she took a breath, but then held it for a moment as easy explanations failed to come.

Emily noticed even that, though, and twisted her head to give Widowmaker a soft kiss on the temple, and Widowmaker let the held breath out as a sigh rather than in words at first. It was followed shortly by another, though, and this one was far more easily formed.

“Her sleep is already plagued with these troubles…” Widowmaker shook her head, recalling what her own dreams used to be like, back when she still let herself have them. “It is better if her waking hours can be free of them. Is it not?”

Emily’s breath was warm on her cheek and the top of her shoulder, warm in a way which drew her in and had her wanting to press closer to the redhead, so she did. There weren’t any actual words as a response, but another kiss on her temple and Emily’s nose tracing a vertical line on her skin - the physical side effect of a nod.

In a few more moments, Emily’s breathing had subsided even further, a clear indicator of sleep, and Widowmaker knew that she was, for all intents and purposes, alone at the moment. The only one still awake, the only observer to it all.

The only one to see the shifting moonlight play over their faces, dappled by the light rain which beaded on the windowpanes, almost too soft to be heard but clearly visible when the light shone through it. The only one to feel Emily shift and wrap an arm around Tracer even in sleep, her hand grasping loosely and almost drunkenly at Widowmaker’s elbow.

The only one left to think about it all.

She decided  _ not _ to think about helplessness, or about whether anything  _ could _ be done to help her mouse’s nightmares, because there was an all-too-real possibility that the answer would be  _ no. _ That would be unacceptable and present far too many problems, so Widowmaker avoided the thoughts altogether.

Instead, she thought of how it would seem some things hadn’t changed.

Even though she had a new heart beating within her chest, her sleep was no more desirable, her feelings no more free or clear - indeed, as before, they hardly existed, only ghosts of their proper selves. Perhaps, though, a little bit stronger, as Emily’s hand tightened on her elbow and Tracer nuzzled back into the pair of them, and Widowmaker’s heart had some odd twitch in response.

Odd, but not necessarily unpleasant. Not beyond the unpleasantness of not being in control of her own body, at least.

Emily still had her hopefulness and optimism, but tempered with that reality, even after it all - somehow she’d not lost hope even in the worst of times. No more than Tracer had lost her nightmares.

Perhaps it was a good thing, that not much had changed. Perhaps it was a bad one. Perhaps it was both - that was, in Widowmaker’s mind, the most likely option of the three. Most things were mixtures of good and bad, and she saw no reason why this should be any different.

No reason, save for one. Save for the fact that she  _ wanted _ it to be different.

She wanted this to be nothing but good, nothing but positive, all the time - but, perhaps, the problem all along had been what she was considering to be good. What she was considering to be positive. It so often was, really, and it was foolish to do so.

Yet, sometimes, even she was foolish.

She’d been thinking of a strifeless existence as the goal, thinking of the three of them here without any wars or fighting as being the epitome of goodness, but that couldn’t be the case, could it?

Tracer would still have her nightmares and her scars, Emily would still have that look she got in her eye sometimes when people spoke about the world. No, they could never escape entirely the world as it was, could never excise themselves from it.

Would she want them to, anyway?

She had. She knew that - Widowmaker knew that she’d been wanting for a way for them to be able to leave all else behind and simply be together. That wasn’t really enough, though. She needed more, as little as she wanted to admit to it, and perhaps…

...perhaps the others did as well.

Tracer never had stopped fighting, even when she’d had no banner to fly and no organization to sign her name to. It seemed that, in her own way, Emily had done much the same, though she’d  _ never _ been a part of any group. Or at least, not one like the former Overwatch. Still, her history - both general and in terms of police records - spoke of a woman who was hardly willing to simply leave the world to its devices.

Perhaps their needs were a bit more complex than Widowmaker had been thinking.

There had been long discussions fraught with frustrations on the matters of her own needs. It was foolish to tell a lion that it needn’t eat meat, foolish to tell a bat that it needn’t fly or a fish that it needn’t breathe under water. It was just as wrong to think that she didn’t need to kill people.

Even if she didn’t want to - but she did. She did want to. Even here, even now, though she tried not to think about it; their heartbeats were like candles and she wanted to snuff them out and see that curl of smoke that would rise from the wick afterward. It was such a beautiful thing, a death.

Even here, even now, she still wanted it and still needed it, and she couldn’t  _ obtain _ it here or now. She certainly wouldn’t let herself kill either of them.

The rain grew heavier as Widowmaker wondered what needs the other two might have, that couldn’t be met in this place - but even just thinking of that, smoothed out the wrinkle that had crept into her mind. That sliver of discomfort abated when she thought about what she might need and what the others might, and about the fact that it was all still out there.

The world still turned, beyond these walls. There were plenty waiting to die, or waiting to be saved, or whatever else it was. There were rooftops to be leapt from and soapboxes to be stood upon, protests to join in with and politicians to remove from office in a manner both forceful and permanent. There were cinnamon buns to be eaten, and smiles to be exchanged, and so many warm touches and hissed words.

It was all still out there, waiting.

Widowmaker’s discomfort dissolved completely and she relaxed entirely into the couch, into the other two, and let her mind wander. This was only a break, only a brief escape, and it should be enjoyed  _ as such. _ There was no point trying to make it last forever, but if she continued to treat it as what it was, it could be a beautiful thing as well.

Indeed, it was.

Warm breath in her hair and on her chest, Widowmaker settled deep, and came closer to sleep than she had for a long time - for years, perhaps. She passed the point of thought without thought, passed the point of her mind idly running, and sank all the way to thoughtlessness and an empty head. The bare verge of consciousness, thankfully just  _ before _ the point of dreams. Or nightmares.

This was a good place to be. It was an island, both literal and metaphorical, and it still sat in the same ocean as the rest of the world. At the same time, it was some distance.

The world wouldn’t change, and maybe even  _ they _ couldn’t, but perhaps they could  _ here _ , for a brief time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alrighty, so - well, I'm not super-sold on this one, and I realize that's at least partly my state of mind. That's the slightly frustrating thing about cognitive distortions, is that I know they're happening, but that doesn't change the fact that they _are_ happening, heh. Anyway, I do like several things about this chapter - I know I ended the last one saying that swimming was next, but I messed up on that and it's actually _next_ chapter, heh.
> 
> As for my absence, I should probably explain a bit - I've got Depression and these past few months have been a really unfortunate episode of it, but I survived and I'm doing a little better now. Better enough that I can edit, and I've even written a few words; better enough that I can bring myself to upload this and stuff like that. The most frustrating part (as it always is) is that things are actually going pretty well overall in my life, but unfortunately that doesn't really have any bearing on the condition. Suffice to say, it was rough, but I managed to make it through. Anyway, I'd be happy to talk about it more if anyone wants to - either here in comment threads, or you can find my Discord link in my profile if you'd rather it be private, whatever - but I don't want to spend the whole author comment slogging through it, heh.
> 
> As for nicer things, I'm back to uploading some stuff here - I have plenty else to upload too, and I think I might start doing that. I have several projects that I've written a few chapters of but uploaded none, because I didn't want to start them going up without being able to commit to a consistent update schedule, but I think I might do away with that idea and have them be "updated whenever they get updated" or that sort of thing.
> 
> Another fun note: I'm going to be a part of the Femwatch Zine coming out in September! [Here's a promo of sorts for it](https://femwatchthezine.tumblr.com/post/176716995086/you-can-find-the-artists-featured-in-this-post), but as for my part, I've written three fics for the Zine: a SFW Mercy/Symmetra fic focusing on Symmetra joining Overwatch and coming to terms with all of the differences (including one cute doctor), a SFW Sombra/Widowmaker piece that ties into the others I've uploaded here and focuses on Sombra taking a prank a _little_ bit too far, and a NSFW Pharah/Tracer/Emily piece that focuses on a sports injury and the trials of getting clean with an injured ankle - but what else are friends for, if not to help you shower (and maybe a few others things), right?
> 
> All three of my fics are between 3,500-4,500 words, and they're only three out of dozens - and dozens of excellent pieces of art from wonderful artists as well. If you click through that blog there are all kinds of hints and sneak previews and mentions of names, and they'll do it justice far better than I can, but I just thought I'd let you all know and spread the word! Five bucks for the SFW version, five for the NSFW version, or eight bucks for both of them; each version has completely different art and fics, by the way, it's not like those art pieces where there's a version for both with them wearing a swimsuit in one and naked in the other, heh.
> 
> I suppose that's about where things stand for now! Bit of a setback in my timeline, but that happens sometimes; it's probably part of why I write so much when I do, because I never know when I'll be made to stop, heh. Hopefully, though, I'm back to writing now!
> 
> Thanks folks, as always, and I hope you liked this chapter - might've been a little rusty after the return, but the wheels should get going well again soon. Thanks for stopping by, for your interest, and c'mon back next time when the three _actually_ go swimming this time, no really they actually do, I checked XD

**Author's Note:**

> So, there it is! What'd you think?


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